I lost two toenails on my first honeymoon. I would go on to lose much more in that marriage, but it started with the loss of one last name and then two toenails, ripped right out by the angst of a tough tide in the Papagayo Peninsula of Costa Rica.
It was my first time scuba diving. Should have taken the life vest offered to me by the young water sports instructor or perhaps not have taken the two lemon drop shots offered to me by the bartender on the way to the shore. I was a novice scuba diver headed out with gear about to be baptized by the unpredictable tides.
Black and white sand beaches within my view and my black and white striped bathing suit matching the chiaroscuro of the whole afternoon. My partner, an experienced swimmer, stroked out into the spotlight of sparkling waves leaving me waddling on the shore. But it must have been a mirage because I dived out into the cove with the assurance that being in my mid-twenties afforded only to discover I was unable to wear the sparkles of the sea that afternoon.
It seemed so easy to float face down, a voyeur to the skittering fish and underwater fauna, posing for photos like a flipper’d celebrity, while the sun baked my back and the black cliffs overhead were hardcore punk rockers with lots of neon green tattoos. We were all so very cool drifting closer to the indifferent rocks, searching for the secrets not on shore, when tides started rushing fast pushing us like a mosh pit. I know I’m lucky I didn’t slice open a limb but instead slammed a flipper against the rocks ripping out two toenails. It was fortunate that the tide enjoyed tickling the rocks and then relenting for a tense moment before inflicting more torture, so I could scramble back to the safety of the open sea.
There were more shots with the bandaging of my toes. But the comment that should have told me I was as impetuous with my first scuba dive as I was with my first marriage came when my partner said, “Well, at least you can say you lost something on your honeymoon.”
This piece was prepared in response to Flashback Track #17 Just Keep Swimming. The question-What’s your most memorable swimming experience? Hope you’ll join us in sharing your swim story.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
That last sentence put a crease in my forehead.
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Me, too, on rereading. Tried ironing it out. Well, hopefully makes a bit more sense——it was a bad joke he made about how virginity was traditionally lost in a honeymoon, now I had done thing I could claim I lost.
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Wow, I’m your foot was screaming in pain! I hope it healed well. Two marriages, I quit for good at three when it ended…
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Thanks for reading and commenting, Kohn. Don’t remember the pain of this or the marriage clearly as I guess it’s true what they say about time and how it numbs all wounds…
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It sure does. I’m thre-times divorced ant will never marry again. Too long a story to tell but time has healed the wounds around 99%. There are always things that stay with you.
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yup, that sounds like a rip tide.
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The marriage or the wave? 😂
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no, the marriage sounds like it could’ve used that lifejacket.
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What a story!! …and very well told. I am completely intrigued by his response to your loss of toenails. A premonition, perhaps?
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Thank you. Yes, we did share a love of sarcasm, but he was more harsh with it than me. I lost myself in this marriage, so I’m grateful for the lessons that I was able to take away in the end.
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That’s really what matters…the lessons, insight, growth. I have had my share of “lessons”. Terrible at the time, but positive in the long run 🙂
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Yes, I’ve heard wisely that if you don’t know the lesson of a struggle your still learning in the process of learning it.
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a terrific opening to a swimmingly told story you immerse us fully in; a rough ride physically and metaphorically —
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Yes, very choppy seas for me, John. But still a survivor story and one I finally start to share with humor and the insight of time. Thank you.
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Deftly told. I love the descriptions.
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Thank you. I liked forming those and trying to recreate this memory felt freeing.
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Yes. Writing something out can be so therapeutic. Telling it YOUR way, answerable to nothing but the creativity and the flow of emotion/memory. For me, writing is another way of thinking.
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Ouch! Painful memories on so many levels. But great that you got out alive 😊 we were nearly dashed to pieces on the rocks while kayaking on our honeymoon!
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Thank you, Ingrid. Oh, you should write about this kayak adventure sometime. Definitely one of my most vivid swimming memories that December day.
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