Swimming

Have I ever told you about when I was a young girl and could shape-shift? That is actually a trick question. I never told anybody. It's true, though. It was fun to fly as a bird, or swim as a duck, or run and leap as a rabbit. Mouse was fun, too, but a bit dangerous. I could shift to a fish as well. It was a great feeling to swim so easily and breathe with gills. Once, though, I was by the sea and saw a group of whales swimming and playing together. How they called to me! I dropped my clothes right there on the beach and dove into the water. When I reached them I was a young whale. I was smooth and sleek and beautiful and strong. I was with my family! We spoke and sang to each other. We played and swam and hunted together. I was happier than I had ever been as a human girl.

I lost track of time. Mostly when I became something else it was only for a little while, and no one missed me. This time there was a great hullabaloo. My clothes were discovered on the beach, search parties went here, there and everywhere, and they thought I was dead. I couldn't hear them and didn't pay attention. What did I care?

So how did I return? My little sister brought me home. In her innocence she stood on the beach and called to the sea, "Caro, where are you? Please come home! I miss you!" Somehow the call of her heart reached mine, and I turned and swam for shore.

When I was found, wet, shivering and naked, so many people asked me so many questions. I said nothing. Let them think what they liked. I missed my whale family. I had a hard time becoming human again. I've been human now for a long time, but part of my brain is still a whale's brain, I think. I remember that we talked and sang, and how beautiful it was, but I can never remember the talk or the singing. So often I try and remember, but it is closed to me.

I have never gone back. I never shape-shifted again. Now, as an adult, I'm not sure that I can. Do I dare to take off my clothes and swim out to sea? Would I remember the songs then? I often go to the shore and stand, and look out over the water. Maybe some time I will hear my whale sister calling to me, "Caro, where are you? Come back! I miss you!" And then I will go.