I feared the sea before I knew you.
I come from a land of ice. Glacial rivers ran through our planet's terrain, and separated the land with deadly, unforgiving waters. Unrelenting snowstorms kept us underground. Daylight was a rare blessing. When we could venture outside, we fished for food in vast lakes with ice thicker than we were tall. If the ice cracked, or if anyone was unlucky enough to fall into its depths, the water would paralyze them in seconds.
I lost friends to the sea. It was the silent, unforgiving killer.
When the sea swallowed someone, it seemed to drag them to death even faster the more they struggled. Like a thoughtless monster.
The waters on Earth are different, but it didn't matter much to me. They appeared kinder, warmer. Humans let their little ones play in the grasp of the sea, on the shores of beaches and on the sides of piers. I thought they were foolish. It felt as though humans were toying with death.
It all changed once I knew you.
I didn't understand how the sea could look so beautiful. How something so deadly, so cruel could bend to your will. You'd coax the waters with an easy grace. You'd dance through the depths of rivers like something from a storybook. It was clear to me that you didn't fear its power in the slightest. You adored the sea. And it adored you.
It made me want to adore you, too.
I began to see how the waters of Earth were the lifeblood of your flourishing natural resources. How your dark forests and vast, green plains were nourished by the water of your warm, lush ecosystem. It was nothing like I had ever seen, but it was everything I imagined the paradise of Earth to be. At the center of Earth – the beautiful gem of our universe – was the sea.
When we finally were able to heal our planet, I saw how our waters could be kinder, too. Soon after our return, we began to explore sprouting meadows where there had only been barren wasteland just days before. Our rivers flowed freely, and new kinds of fish began to breed in their nurturing grasp. The water hadn't lost its power, but it had softened its touch.
I began to understand how the sea could be both a killer and the lifeblood of a planet. I began to understand why you loved it so much. The sea was a living, breathing beast, with the power to give life – or to take it away. You were one with the sea, because you understood it. Just as the waters of Earth give it life, you gave your planet life, too.
I would often sit by the river that ran by our city center and dip my fingers in the water. The cool touch of the rushing beauty reminded me of the way your long, silky hair moved in the water when you swam – like you were born in its depths. Like you and the waters were one and the same.
I feared the sea before I knew you.
Now, I could sit and stare into its depths forever.