The sea looked the same from the road

We’d been to that beach dozens of times. It was a small cove, a short walk down from the road. From above, the water looked calm.

My brother and I went for a swim while our friends stayed on the beach. We weren’t trying to do anything adventurous. We were talking, floating around and not paying much attention to how far we’d drifted.

When we turned back, getting to the shore was much harder than we expected. I remember looking at the same rock several times and feeling that we weren’t getting any closer.

A man on a small boat noticed us. By the time he reached us, I was exhausted and my brother had stopped pretending everything was fine.

He helped us back. I sat on the beach shaking while one of our friends called for medical advice. Nobody made jokes for a while.

I kept trying to thank the man. He checked that our friends were staying with us, gave them his number in case they needed it and left.

Later, from the road, the sea looked almost exactly as it had when we arrived. That was the part I found hardest to explain to people afterwards.

We went back to the cove months later, just for a walk. I still love it there. I pay much more attention now, and I’m grateful someone else was paying attention that day.