Updated: Aug 2, 2021
“ As we turn to push back we are knocked farther out, and at once both feel the tug away from the landscape. Tommy turns and looks at me. We both are farther out quickly, and realize we are being pulled."
We swim out naked into the warm water, Tommy swimming ahead, my hands reaching out to touch his feet as they kick. The warm, white Mexican sand is still on our faces and in our hair, and there is no one on this entire stretch of beach in either direction. We kiss and swim in circles. The sky is blue and the waves lap onto the shore crashing gently in small walls of white. As we turn to push back we are knocked farther out, and at once both feel the tug away from the landscape. Tommy turns and looks at me. We both are farther out quickly, and realize we are being pulled. “It’s ok, babe,” I say, but feel the panic burn through me and the water take over my direction. I can see the fear on his face, and we both know not a single person is on shore to help us. We struggle for what feels like the longest minute ever. “This way,” I say, and flip us onto our backs as we float ourselves along the shore. We list down a bit then turn and kick hard against the current. Into the surf we land then feel the sand between our toes. We stand, hunched over, legs exhausted, panting, holding each other tightly, trying to understanding what just happened, or could have. We sit naked on the shore together, my hand in his, and watch the water for awhile. Tommy puts his head on my shoulder, my arm around his waist. We say nothing.