The Sea I Finally Met

 

Since childhood, I have wondered what it feels like to stand in front of the sea. How big does a large body of water actually feel when you're standing right in front of it? In my mind, I used to imagine living alone on an island in the middle of the sea, far from any humans. Movies only added to this curiosity, making the sea feel even more mesmerising.

I grew up near rivers. I have seen their mighty presence in different terrains and spent months in the quiet creeks of deltas. I have even seen the Bay. But I had never experienced the sea, the waves, the real thing. I was the only one in my family who hadn't been to the sea, and that made me more curious every time I heard their stories.

So I finally took myself there. It was my first solo trip, one week long. My friends helped me book a quiet place right in front of the beach and sorted out the most convenient way to get there. I went with hesitation, almost reluctant, to a state I had never visited before. I ended up in a remote place where I couldn't exchange a single sentence with anyone; just hand gestures and expressions did the job.

But I did it. I spent days in front of the sea. I played with the waves by myself. I read a book with a cup of tea beside me. I jogged early in the mornings and watched the sea change its face between day and night, calm one moment, restless the next.

One morning, I saw humpback dolphins jumping in the vast sea. The sky was a soft mix of orange, pink, and light blue, with a bit of fog still hanging over the water. I stood there, just watching. That's when I understood what I had been curious about all along. It wasn't just about the sea; it was about finally letting myself experience something I had wondered about for years.

 A glimpse from the early morning