about snorkeling.

Hanuama Bay is a glittering crescent, carved out hundreds of years ago by pools of boiling lava. The water is a dazzling jewel of turquoise, filled with rainbows of tropical fish and coral. We joined the crowds of tourists and flocked to the sunny bright bay, decked out in snorkel gear. Timmy and I held hands as we flippered out into the bright water and, on the count of three, we ducked out of this world and entered the world beneath the waves. The sound of waves faded into a soft hum, and all I could hear was my own breathing and the elusive whoosh of water and bubbles. I felt slippery and light, as if I had become part of the ocean. I saw mounds of dazzling pink coral, white shimmery sand, and clouds of beautiful fish. We danced among striped fish, fish that looked like a rainbow had smeared across their scales, and I even teased a puffer fish, in hopes it would become scared and puff up. I found a small crustacean, no bigger than my little toe, hiding in a small hole in the coral. Fish swam so close I could feel the ripple of their fins as they flitted away. (They seemed completely unafraid of us as we swam among them. I think perhaps they saw our flippers and thought we were one of them. Tim thinks they are just used to people, since Hanuama Bay gets 3,000 visitors PER DAY, every day of the year.) And then we would break to the surface, and the noises of our world and the sound of our own voices seemed deafening. We'd laugh and smile and talk about our discoveries as we cleared our masks. Then we'd slip back underneath the waves, dazzled. We spent three hours snorkeling, until our fingers were pruny and Timmy's teeth were chattering because he was so cold. (Yup, he got cold faster than me!) 

If you ever go to Hawaii, promise me that you'll visit Hanauma Bay. It is truly a magical place.