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We were exploring a reef system's wildlife when one of the guides we were diving with made a series of gestures to me.All I picked up was, “It’s time to go up,” so I nodded and we floated our way to the surface.And then she had to peel the whole thing off when the boat captain suggested we postpone until the next day.But I noted the relief in her sigh as she yanked her left foot out of the leg of the suit.The next dive that day and the two the day after were easy and gorgeous, in warm water and dazzling sun, swimming over historical shipwrecks and exploring reefs.Because that’s how it is with Simone — get her past that first bit of doubt, and she settles down, letting her natural gifts restore her confidence.
So there we were, driving down the Overseas Highway with the windows open, bellies full of fresh mango and a guanabana milkshake from the Robert is Here fruit stand, a Spanish radio station’s latin pop cranked to be heard above the wind mussing our hair, Simone translating song titles and snippets of lyrics, both of us smiling and laughing.
I know too well how it ebbs when it’s not nourished.
So I bought our plane tickets, reserved a hotel, made arrangements with a dive shop, and then Hurricane Irma made her landing, and we waited for weeks to know if our trip could still happen.
I could see my girl getting a little nervous during the pre-dive briefing, and she balked at leaping off the front of the boat and into the water, so the captain led her around to a ladder, where she could slip in a little more easily. we were underwater, diving along the wreck of an old coal barge, and everything was beautiful.
Simone’s jitters disappeared as she settled into the slow and steady breathing from her training, and of course every pufferfish was a small miracle to her.