Souvenir

I longed for the crusty sand beneath my toes as soon as I boarded the boat. Watching as the overlapping waves swallowed up the yellow glow of the beach, I shuddered from the ongoing flashes of nausea caused by the wild swaying of the craft. It was sunny, yet the sea remained a murky grey. Cans, plastic bags, shampoo bottles. Trash littered the ocean like a dump. The smell was so putrid, it made my nostrils flare and burn with disgust. Floating bodies of sea creatures skimmed the sides of the boat as it sliced through patches of garbage. It was a morbid sight for our honeymoon.

My eyes strayed from the rolling waves to my husband, Elian. His brow furrowed with unexpected dismay. His arm went stiff wrapped around my shoulder- I could feel it. He, too, was sick of what was supposed to be a beautiful vacation. Nausea suddenly overwhelmed me and I spun around, bent over the side of the boat. The craft slowed and I felt Elian try to tug me back into my seat. There was no way we could continue if I didn't take a break.

The seas of the Pacific Ocean used to be so fresh and busy. Now, most beaches were abandoned because of the growing numbers in whale bodies washing up on shore with garbage shoved down their spouts. Even mounds of trash piled up along the coastline so families couldn't swim. The water became contaminated and marine biologists were overburdened with the responsibility of taking care of the aquatic life and their habitats affected by the pollution.

I slipped a finger into the water. It was a yucky lukewarm, but the overwhelming disgust distracted me from the sour bile rising in my throat. Curious, I prodded lightly around the stray cans and bottles stripped of their labels. The tips of my digits brushed against the surface of a rigid object. Instinctively, I scooped it out of the water, jerking myself backwards onto the hard floor of the boat. The tiny, stiff body of a mustard yellow seahorse lay curled up in my cupped hands. It's scrawny tail was wrapped around a pink Q-tip. I pried the creature's body away from it, yanking the Q-tip from the seahorse's strong grasp.

"Put it back in the ocean. We can't take that home with us," Elian reached for the seahorse, but I pulled away, "it probably has diseases, Renee."

"What if it's alive?" I retorted desperately.

"It's not alive, Renee. Just put the seahorse back. Please," He urged gently, embarrassed by my actions.

The rest of the ride was greeted with uncomfortable silence. I hugged my knees, the seahorse still in my hand. I rested my head on my lower thigh and pushed my back further up against the side of the craft. I know I was being immature, but this seahorse made me realize how much of the Earth we've destroyed already. It was a souvenir. A souvenir to remind us of our decaying oceans.