I had already done the obligatory ocean swim where one goes from one end to the other of the designated area and had settled into an salt-water holding pattern of slow motion when they entered my visual space. She was more spry than he was, but not by a lot. I wondered about their trip to the Island. He must have needed a wheel-chair assist at the airport, but I was sure he did not want one. Perhaps I was projecting my own thoughts onto others,
He held onto her shoulders as they slowly, but surely, made their way onto the sandy ledge. His slow descent was marked by many stops where he readjusted his stance while focused on the goal, the water's edge. Several times, he stopped and appeared to be rethinking the decision to enter the water; yet, his supportive partner appeared to reassure him that the trip was both possible and worthwhile, even if she was not sure of the path ahead.
He stopped inches from the water's edge, and it was then that a younger man passed a toddler to his wife and emerged to become an entry support person. I do not know what words, if any were exchanged. I do know that the entry went smoothly and the man was soon immersed in the warm water where his smile was evident to all. The younger man stuck around just in case he was needed.
The older man stayed in the ocean only a few minutes, and the Good Samaritan helped with the exit through the murky sand. Eventually, the Good Samaritan returned to his own, young family playing in the briny waves.
I hope that some day, in the not so distant future, there is a Good Samaritan to help me when the waves and ocean drop are greater than I can manage,
I hope, in the distant future, there is another Good Samaritan to help that young man when he needs support to feel the ocean in his bones.
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