I have a love-hate relationship with the ocean. Mostly I hate it. Because it scares me. Hey, I’ve seen JAWS. Scary things live in the ocean. Scary things with teeth.
I’m not much for adventure (I’ve never had a craving for adrenaline). But I’m firmly in my 40s now, and I told myself I’d stop saying I’ll try it later and Carpe the Diem. So a few years ago, while we were in the Cayman Islands, I tried snorkeling. In the ocean. Way out in the ocean. I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. Right up until a rogue wave tossed me into a patch of razor-sharp coral I had no business swimming over. At that point, I should have resigned from snorkeling, but I got back on the horse . . .
Since my brush with Freddy Kruger coral in the Caymans…
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