All alone, I carefully trod my way, barefoot, down the jagged, dirty, broken crags of rocks to the deep teal pool. It has an odor like the ocean: salty but clean. In the shadows hide the small rock dragons and other creatures of the water’s edge.

I dip my feet into the frigid water and shiver as the cold travels from my toes to my arms. I slowly lower myself into the icy cold pool. I breathe deeply as the chilly sea breeze fills my lungs, I feel a little warmer inside. Funny how the cold air still can keep you toasty.

As I climb onto the rocks on the far side of the pool, I see a whale splashing far out in the bay. I bet I could swim out to it if not for sharks. Sharks! The denizens of the waters in our peaceful bay, who kill to live and live to kill. Then again, I think I’ll just stay here. I can see the khaki tan beaches and deep green hills of Gansbaai and Cape Town, all from my small rocky perch overlooking the blue rock pool. I wonder if there is someone on those rolling green hills, looking back and wondering about me.

I dive back in to the cold water; I can feel soft, smooth seaweed brushing my legs as I skim on the bottom of the deep salty pool. I come up with a handful of the fine, dark bottom sand. It is a powdery texture, like you could make a cake with it. Yum.

I clamber back onto the land side of the shore, shaking, freezing, and dripping wet. I haul my tired body onto the crags and outcroppings and feel the hot afternoon sun bake me dry. When I am warm and comfortable again, I look towards where I came. What if I fall? If a kid falls into the ocean but no one is there to hear him yell, does he make a sound?

I put that scary thought back away in my mind and forget. I still have to get back to the shore. The sheer drop makes my stomach lurch like a roller coaster, but I dive in again. As the cool water cleans the sand off my feet, I think about the adrenaline rush of this experience and etch it into the back of my thoughts forever. Should I tell Grandpa and June? Or just leave it for myself, a cherished memory for me and me alone? Or publish it to the world?

I think I’ll take the latter.