When we were swimming in huge waves, and I couldn't touch the floor, and there were waves breaking over us, and I could see my friends on the beach, I felt bare, open, so visible to the sun above, so visible to the eye of God. And I waved, to the shore, to my friends, to the lifeguard.
And they came, he came, slowly, thinking that I was saving my friend on the surfboard, who was also too far out, whose surfboard I had grabbed onto as I was weak. And they came, he came, the lifeguard came, and saved me, on a beach, in Mexico. Afterwards, he interviewed my friend who he thought was needing the saving, who perhaps was, and I perhaps did, and did not.
And I was at peace, being seen by the one who sees me, even as I was afraid, and desperate, and stupid, and young, and oblivious about swimming in currents. And I didn't go in the water the rest of the weekend.
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