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  • Writer's pictureNora Studholme

Calm

The winds have paused and paradise is revealed.

The water is clear, mouth-wash blue, and almost still. The sandy bottom is no longer kicked up into an underwater dust-storm by the constant waves, and the fish, who have been there all along, are now darting out from rocks, rising up to tilt their bulging eyes curiously at snorkelers. Fish with shark-like pectoral fins and flat little mouths that look like they’re in a state of constant surprise — or pursed for a kiss— suckle on gray-green rock moss. Chubby brown and white fish wander in and out of invisibility against their camouflaged background, while parrot fish cheerfully swish past them. Children practice dives and cannonballs off the pier. Actually, they’ve been doing that every day. For children, the delight of the ocean is unconditional.

Relieved fishermen come in from their boats, the first time they’ve been able to go out since we arrived here. We know what we’ll be having for dinner.

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