May, 2025

Water

Water holds an elusivity that is absent everywhere else I seek it. It ebbs and flows; dances and sits still; is a dichotomy in and of itself. The human body is sixty percent water, the planet Earth seventy-one. It is everywhere, it is everything; it is life.

I have always been fascinated by the ocean. I am often entranced by the things that I am afraid of. My fear of the ocean is something that I have come to move past as I have grown older, but it will remain a part of me always. I have never forgotten the anxiety that I used to feel entering any body of water. I have never forgotten the sting of jellyfish venom on my right arm. But I also remember the immediate calm I feel as the water brushes against my thighs; the feeling of breaking through the surface as I allow the salt to pervade my eyes; the heaviness of my hair full of water. 

The Atlantic 

Rough waves crash onto the soft sand. They are large and come frequently, carrying with them an aggression; an anger. The Atlantic Ocean is never calm on Fire Island, seemingly always fighting with some invisible force. My mother does not let me near the water. 

Richka

The richka is ice cold and rocky. The only sound we can hear is the rush of the water and the summer breeze blowing through the trees. Veronica has taken me to Oselia, her Ukrainian summer camp. The camp session is over, the absence of other people apparent. We are alone in the hidden river, the dock the only means of escape from the water snakes that we cannot see. 

Rain

Rain. It is what allows the plants of our earth to grow, the animals that roam the land to drink, and humans to enjoy the luxury of replenished water. Rain is often forgotten when people think about water. Yet it remains, continuing to do all of the work that goes unnoticed, keeping every organism alive.

I was named after the rain. There was a point in time when I detested my name. It made me feel embarrassed; out of place; alone. Though I loved how the earth smelled after a storm, and how the droplets of water landed on eyelashes, and how wet, dewey grass felt underneath my feet, I could not apply this appreciation to my name. But slowly, as I fell in love with the world around me, my name became a point of connection between me and the earth that we are so often made to feel separate from.

Mediterranean

The Mediterranean Sea is calm in its movements. The water is warm underneath the summer sun and teems with the leftover venom of nomad jellyfish. Its depths are ever so inviting. Sometimes it seems as if a siren is calling your name, luring you into its tranquil blue.

The water feels warm as it washes over me. The summer sun burns hot on my back as I step forward. The sound of people talking on the beach slowly drowns out as I turn my attention to the movement of the waves. I could lose hours of my day watching the smooth foam. I allow my breath to fall in pattern with the rise and fall of the water, and all of a sudden, I am no longer a separate entity from the vast sea I stand in.

Brighton

The water of the English Channel has a biting chill. The dense blanket of rocks that line the shore are not much solace from the cold. It is nearly impossible to distinguish the water from the sky, their bleak grays blending with one another.  If you gaze hard enough through the mist, maybe there is some beauty to be found in England’s perpetual gloom. The ocean whispers calming words as you wade through the shallows, pulling you under its murky surface. 

I am in a cotton tank top and shorts, trying to float in Brighton’s brisk water. It is too cold and I cannot stay still. The world around me has become irrelevant in comparison to the sea. Not even Wolfie, the big black dog awaiting me on the shore, can tempt me from the gray. I am beginning to go numb, but I continue to let the feeling submerge me. I am calm, and nothing else matters.