One turtle, but it was enough
I flopped my flippered feet into the water and when I dunked my head, I could see fish of every description, exploding like confetti around the coral.
It was like an unabridged Dr Seuss book — red fish, blue fish, fat fish, flat-faced fish with sulky mouths, bright cobalt fish like glow sticks at a rave party, black fish with drooping fins, fish with appendages resembling driftwood, and fish with plump, kissable lips. I felt like a child peering into a kaleidoscope for the first time.
Suddenly, a round shadow appeared right under me. I saw the turtle only as a flash, stretching its ancient, wrinkled head towards the coral.
The segments on its shell looked like asymmetrical slate flooring and its speckled flippers waved gently in the water.
‘‘I just saw a turtle!’’ I shouted at Mike. ‘‘Well, let’s turn around and find it again!’’ He began to grapple with his paddle.
But I told him I was content with a single sighting. Our kayak dashed us back to solid land, where shapes don’t warp with moving currents, returning us to clattering noise and calendars, to routines and grocery lists and unopened bills.
It had been just one turtle, but it was enough. Follow the Reader columns now also appear each Tuesday on our new Food & Travel page.