A Blue Walk - #PlanetOrPlastic

A Blue Walk

The overhead microphone crackled to life as she walked through the dim-lit blue hallway. A pleasant voice of a woman reached her ears, lulling her, making her drowsy, but Eve forced herself to listen.

“Our ocean covers 71 percent of the earth. Some of its names we have already known: Indian, Pacific, Atlantic, and Arctic. The newest one, however, is called the Southern or Antarctic.”

Eve watched in awe as the deep blue of the water behind the glass rolled and swayed. Fishes swam like they were dancing in rhythm she didn’t understand. Small sea turtles swimming with the bigger ones. Baby tiger sharks rolling near the sandy floor like they owned the place. Eve could relate. She felt that way, too, sometimes.

Then, just then, a shadow loomed right above her head. A gigantic stingray flew leisurely pass the clear glass on top of her. Eve gasped.

Right beside her, her mother chuckled softly. “Majestic, huh, Evie?”

She grabbed her mother’s hand tighter. “He is, Mom! He must be the king of the ocean.”

Eve’s weathered but kind mother smiled at her fondly. “Is he?”

“He must be!”

They continued walking through the hallway. The woman still spoke through the microphone. Faintly, Eve heard the sound of the water lapping, the soft giggles of people around them, and she felt at peace. She was six and she knew already that this was what she lived for.

All of a sudden she longed for the harsh wind of the beach. She hadn’t been to a beach in so long. Eve loved Sea World, but beaches and oceans were still her favorites. She told her mother so.

But her mother had only looked at her ruefully before a video started right before them. Eve knew the video, had seen it a million times, and she hated it. Pictures and pictures of sadness came forward one by one. Of a seahorse hanging its tail around a cotton bud. Of a woman diving into the ocean, swimming among the fishes, stingray, and plastic garbage. Of mountains and hills of garbage at the empty shores. Of so many more.

This was their reality now. Humans were not allowed to dive into the sea without full bath suit a license anymore. Something about toxic. Her mother told Eve so the first time she’d brought her to the empty beach. Eve had thrown tantrum. She felt the ocean calling out to her and yet, she was not allowed to touch.

The final picture appeared. A mountain of iceberg—or plastic—depending on how you saw it. On top of it were the words: Save Our Ocean.

Eve said to her mother, “Someday, Mommy, I will save the ocean.”

“Will you?”

“Yes,” she said earnestly. “No more dying Mr. Dolphin.” She would make sure. His death last summer was painful. “Do you believe me, Mom?”

Her mother kneeled before Eve. Her eyes gleaming as she kissed Eve’s temple. “Of course, sweetheart.”

They continued their walk.

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