On a sweltering Sunday morning at the end of July, we drove
to the beach and met friends who had planted a large, rainbow-colored
umbrella near the water. After spreading our blankets out on the sand
near them, we waded together into the tepid blue water of the Gulf.
The water was so warm that you couldn’t tell the difference
between the temperature of your skin and the water. A few other bathers were splashing
in the water, but the beach wasn’t crowded yet. By noon it would fill with thousands
of bathers squeezed together, blanket touching blanket, umbrellas
sprouting like colorful flowers.
We waded into the shallow surf past the sharp-edged shells
and rocks to a place where the water was waist-high and we could lift our feet
off the bottom and float easily on our backs as the gentle waves of the Gulf rocked us back
and forth.
I watched one of our friends swim south, parallel to the
shoreline, her arms flashing against the turquoise of the sea. A quarter-mile
away, she made a wide turn and began to swim back toward us.
Off to our right, I noticed a middle-aged man and young woman
standing on surfboards and using long-handled paddles to propel the boards
toward shore. The Gulf was so calm that morning that the surface reflected the edge of each
paddle as it dipped into the water sending glittering droplets in circles around them.
And then out of the water emerged a sight that I hadn’t
expected—a large gray flipper, a triangular shaped fin, followed by a sleek and
shiny silver body.
A few yards away one of the other bathers shouted: “Shark!”
But it wasn’t a shark. It was a dolphin, and it appeared
to be playing with the paddle-boarders, weaving between them, crossing trails
that they had left behind in the water as they paddled toward shore.
Slowly, in ever-widening circles, the dolphin came within a few feet of us, teasing the paddle-boarders in the hope,
perhaps, that they’d follow in a game of tag or hide-and-seek.
Its large, sleek body gleamed in the sunlight, magical and mysterious, part of a far-away place hidden deep beneath the surface. The sight was like a gift from the sea offered to us unexpectedly on this tranquil Sunday morning.
One moment the dolphin was gliding smoothly along the
surface of the water, the next, as in a dream, I blinked and it dipped under the surface and
was gone.
Gifts from the sea--these kinds of magical moments--come upon us without warning and
deepen our experience of life, just as they can deepen our character’s
experience of life in our stories.
Do you recall the last magical moment that occurred in your life? What magical moments have you noticed in your own stories or in those stories
that are your favorites?
Think about how such gifts from the sea contain the power to change
your view of yourself and your understanding of life. Then spend a few minutes
writing about a magical moment in your life and how it may have influenced you.
Now think of a magical moment in the life of your character—or
characters—and begin writing about how that gift from the sea changed him
or her.
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