When I was seven years old playing in the surf of the Pacific Ocean, I got barrel rolled by a big wave. The currents tossed me all around and upside down. Still underwater with my eyes closed, I began swimming as hard as I could to reach the surface. My breath was running out. Right at the moment I expected my head to burst out of the water so I could take a deep breath, my head hit the sand. My body gasped anyway.
At twenty-nine, that same wave has caught me again. Down seems up, wrong feels right, and the currents pull me, helplessly. I’m swimming hard again for the surface, and I hope the next breath is air. Because I’m gonna gasp either way.
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