I am surrounded by a rushing, cool liquid, blue as the sky. My clear mind takes in every inch available. Movement by movement, slowly inching forward, surrounded by colorful parcels referred to as our scaly friends. The newest waves, small in stature, break early and small ripples of water rush across my sunburnt face. My head submerged, I get only small breaths from a piece of plastic, as I take in the view of a lifetime – the colorful ocean floor.

My eyes lock onto this real life Atlantis. The inhabitants, young and old, big and small, swim every which way without a care in the world. This civilization is an amazing, organized chaos. The wide variety of colors and movements resemble an underwater kaleidoscope, spinning and spinning, revealing the many different shapes that a kaleidoscope has to offer. The civilians of the sea are darting every which way around the city, exploring the new sights around town including a small fishing boat, capsized and sunken to the bottom or a plastic breathing tube designed to help someone survive, ominously left behind in the water’s depths.

Small fish swim the short way to school each day. The teachers, old with wisdom, share advice about the big open ocean. Students swim around learning everything they possibly can about the big, blue sea. Some interested, some not. These young civilians take a new approach at “fins-on learning” by conducting experiments on the proper way to avoid predators, where to find the best food, and how to make friends with the other fish. I watch as these little guys have a good time using the things they learned in school, something that we humans don’t seem to ever have to do, to fulfill their purpose in life. Predators, the criminals of the fish world, are scary, death-resembling fish. They swim, keeping an eye out for their next meal. 

The wisest of the community wears a seaweed green backpack, hard to the touch. He keeps it with him wherever he goes; he needs it to survive. I follow him through the civilization for minutes upon minutes. He swims over and through, checking on everyone and patrolling for trouble. He watches over the city, and the fish don’t seem bothered by his presence. In fact, they look like they know just how lucky they are to have this protector, keeper of the backpack. This leader, known as a wild sea turtle, takes some fish on a journey into the depths of the magnificent ocean, full of energy and speed. I follow him, too, and watch as he teaches swimming techniques to the young fish. The short field trip meanders through a small strip of colorful coral. The ecstatic students take off, surrounding themselves in these hard, underwater plants. The many colors of the fish swarming in all directions reminds me of a time when my only problem in life was cleaning up the box of crayons I had spilled on the kitchen floor. The colors scatter in every direction, almost as if this amazing, organized chaos is, in fact, a daily routine. 

I swim back to the beach which is littered with hard rocks and drop-offs. I watch what is left of the colors. The light begins to slip away, inch by inch. The powerful sun threatens to leave me in the dark, all alone. I take in every last bit of it: the magical view, the formations the fish swim in, the large sea turtle and his posse of small fish, the flourishing town of sea creatures, all living in harmony. All those except for the predators, of course. 

Back home, I miss the happiness I felt watching those creatures live their free lives without a care in the world. I miss the sand between my toes. I miss the pretty sunset, bouncing off the calming water, an indescribable scene I will never forget. Please take me back to Hawaii’s North Shore.