Marriage and the Vortex of Doom
Our family took a short cruise up the Sea of Cortez in Mexico in January, just before school resumed. It was a wonderful nature cruise that offered up-close glimpses of wildlife, hiking, snorkeling, and sea kayaking.
I'm not a person who enjoys water. I can tread water, but going out in deep water causes me to panic, due to some early childhood trauma involving my dad throwing me in a lake in an attempt to teach me using the old "sink or swim method." I sank. Like a rock wearing a toolbelt. I don't like inhaling saltwater, so snorkeling has never held much appeal to me either.
My husband and son, on the other hand, are like a couple of friendly, inquisitive sea mammals and would rather snorkel than walk on land any day. I was feeling a little left behind sitting on the beach with my People magazine, and so when the opportunity to kayak came along, I decided to "feel the fear and do it anyway." I trusted that my husband would save me if we tipped over, and felt pretty sure that I wouldn't drown with the industrial-strength inflatable life vest I had strapped on my chest.













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