Mother and Child

Tip of the paddle slipping into the water. Pulling back against the ocean current. Kayak moving forward. Paddle out, up, around, in. Pulling back, out, up, around, in. The motion is hypnotic.

I rest my paddle on the rim of the boat, while the undulating ocean waves cradle me with their movement. I look out on the horizon, and yes, I see them.

Their dark bodies are slipping into the water with a choreographed motion they have never needed to rehearse. A long pause and there they are again. Bodies rise out of the water and gracefully return to the ocean. Like the paddle. Out, up, around, in. Their deep exhales spraying water like geysers as they surface once again.

They are much closer now. I keep my kayak at a respectful distance. It’s a mother and her calf. I can actually hear their exhales each time one of them surfaces. The mother’s breath is deep and slow. The calf’s is high and quick. They remain in the same general area, as if this is their oceanic backyard.

Their relationship taps into a universal one of mothers with their children. To this day they remain with me. So simple. So true to the birthright of all living beings on our earth.