The next morning, we met the instructor for a redemption dive. “I don’t want to regret coming here and not diving.” Later, when I thought everyone was sleeping, the bedroom door creaked open. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is say no. “I wanted to go back to the boat today, too. It felt important Alex knew we were on the same page earlier. (The mac and cheese food truck also helped.) We could suit up, walk into the water, swim out a bit for a shorter, 20-foot dive.Īlex and I exchanged a thanks-but-no-thanks look.Īs the day went on, we rinsed away any feelings of what could have been by hopping between pools and the ocean. The instructor said we could finish the “resort certification” the next morning with a dive from the beach. ‘I’m proud of you no matter what.’” But was I proud of myself no matter what? “I’m so mad at myself,” Alex told me as she sat down, tears flowing. Relieved I didn’t have to submerge and relieved I didn’t have to be the one to throw in the towel first. Not in a way that parents publicly present themselves anyway.
What I’m about to tell you isn’t very parent-like of me. It was like giving bravery one last chance to find me. I knew what was next because repositioning the mask was always my way of buying time. I saw Alex struggling to adjust her mask. I couldn’t see the red polish on my toes like I could floating near the beach. You get out there in those unknown depths, though, the color doesn’t seem that much different than the frigid Atlantic off Acadia National Park. One by one, our gear was checked and we dropped into the ocean like penguins.Ĭlose to the shore, I’ve never seen water clearer than in Turks and Caicos. I didn’t have a full pep talk in me, but I shot off one-liners (to Alex and to me). When the boat slowed, I did what parents do. Fear has a funny way of being a magnet to anything that tugs at your calm. I started worrying about Alex’s type 1 diabetes. My breathing techniques weren’t helping the nerves. I wondered if we should have opted for the glass bottom boat tour. I smiled at her attempt to convince us both. “About two 3-point lines,” I told her, hoping a familiar measurement would help calm the nerves.
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