Pearly wisps of the ocean and my left foot's mosquito bite

This mosquito bite on my left foot is distracting me from my train of thought that had sped along so well, just a moment ago. So is the soft jazz music that snakes from the television screen, to the couch where I fidget to kill the pest that is resting on my arms and legs at intervals. Its one of those warm nights where the air is heavy with the sounds of crickets and the humidity that clings to every food of your clothing. I'd like to amend that "warm" into a furnace of a night where the blessing of technology allows the air conditioner to comfort me with an icy rush directed to my face.

I would immerse myself in some cool water outside but my fear of frogs and jumping creatures petrifies me. And the idea of itchy eyebrows is unappealing as the insects that bite find the exposed parts of my body and my lonely swim would surely be ruined. So I remain inside trying to catch that delightful thought that slipped through my fingers like silky sand on a faraway shore. I hate when that happens, when thoughts run off and disappear into a frenzy of noises and pictures.

I digress, my initial thought was actually about traffic and some observations I have made in the past year or so, but this recollection if swimming has washed away all mechanical thoughts in favour of the element I most love. Water, where I am weightless and I can dance without having to bend to the laws controlling gravity. Like I used to when I was very small and took up dancing with ribbons and I would twirl in the air with them, like a bird. At least I felt like a little bird with my long navy ribbon , the same elation that I feel when I dive into the water. Those fractions of a second when you're mid-air and fear of the icy water is juxtaposed with the excitement of sliding through the cool cocoon of blue. It's the shout of joy before you land and the first bubbles of air that escape your lips as you surface that create the most wonderful sensation.

I almost always gasp in shock when people say they hate swimming, granted that people have different hobbies but what contends the soft ripples that dance as you move and sway or the salty curls that form in the jumping waves that make you move as one with the sea? They all link to my inner child and her love if splashing by the seaside with shells collected in buckets. The prettiest or the owns with the most desirable texture stayed in my pocket to hold or display in a tiny wooden box. Beach trips were(and still are) my favourite things to do, sitting on the shore and waiting for the waves to rush up the shore and caress my toes.

The number of times I go to the beach have dwindled to just passing the beach and the expanse of ocean that just just a stones throw from the road I go along every morning. Watching the golden splashes of sun on the calm blue-grey water that only disappeared when the clouds drooped to kiss the morning waters.

My love of water is romanticized with the pearly wisps of childhood laughter that mingle with my never ending awe of the beauty of the sea. And if I come back to my opening, my left foot still itches from that mosquito bite but I don't mind as much anymore.