The Little Ocean

Finally away from her mother’s judgmental gaze, the little ocean stretched. North, south, east, and west, she tumbled over deep trenches and shallow sands. There was plenty of room, so her wiggles wouldn’t disturb her siblings or annoy her mother. There was no one to tell her not to stretch even further, no one to care what she did.

Her fist knocked against something, and she twirled, venturing again to inspect it. Hard, unyielding, rough. It didn’t rock at her touch like a boat. It didn’t fly off like a gull. Perhaps this was one of the clouds that often sailed high above, cousins mother required she send a polite wave to.

So, she waved, but no response came. Clouds always called her cute, and sometimes they chuckled, but then, they never saw her so indecently sprawled like this.

The little ocean gathered herself and waved again but was still ignored. How rude of this stiff, immobile thing. She would make it notice her. She whirled, glittering with bubbles, and hunched at the edge of her domain. Then she charged. She dashed against towering rock, glimpsed lounging dry sand, but her mother towed her back and wrapped her in her frothy arms.

“What are you doing, little one?”

The little ocean reached toward the rocks again. “Why does it not answer?”

Her mother embraced her tighter and continued to bear her away. “The shore sleeps. Do not bother it.”

Yet, just before the rock vanished from sight on the horizon, the little ocean grinned. There, where the water lapped the land, appeared a small wrinkle in the sand, a smile.