For Aaron

This picture was taken on the happiest day of my life.

I know for most mothers out there this would be a photo of your child's birth or maybe a wedding photo or some special event. For me it was August 8, 2004.

Aaron and I were away for a weekend in Cape Ann. I was living in Westfield, about a year after my split with the husband. I was living in the great apartment that I loved so much. The woman in that photo has left the weight of the world that she carried on her shoulders for so long on the bottom of the ocean.

We had just gone for our first scuba dive without an instructor. We crawled along the floor of the Atlantic, pointing out lobsters, fish and we swam over a field of purple and neon yellow starfish. They filled our entire field of vision, little purple stars trimmed in brilliant yellow. A constellation under the sea. We swam through thousands of tiny, tiny jelly fish, their web like tentacles surrounding us like spiderwebs. There were so many the water felt soupy from their jelly-selves filling the salty water where we swam.

I remember sort of floating there about 20 feet down. Aaron was up in front navigating our way. I watched his awkward kick (I'm definitely the better swimmer - Marine or not) and knew in my heart that he was the one I was meant to be with. We hadn't discussed this sort of thing. And it wasn't this sappy, "I'll love him forever" moment. It was more of a confirmation of things set in motion for us. A gentle acknowledgment of the fate that had brought us to this place.

It sounds corny, but watching the sun rays cut through the ocean and light up an entire underwater cliff while he was swimming through it... it made me believe in things I had long forgotten. I was being gently swayed by the waves and the tide, just hovering along, barely moving my arms and legs. I felt perfectly still and at peace with the whole of the world. It was amazing. I made the decision to leave certain things from my past there, buried under 20 feet of water. It was a re-birth of myself. What I left behind doesn't matter nearly as much as what I took with me.

I spent three days in Cape Ann scuba diving. And in those three days I worried about nothing. I ate when I was hungry, I napped when I was tired. I drank beer sitting on our little porch overlooking the water. I put my feet up on the railing while my wet suit dried in the afternoon sun. I watched the boats go by, little boys fishing with their father, huge birds diving in to the water and snatching up fish right in front of me. We were staying in this rudimentary campground that had a building with little rooms in it. Rustic doesn't begin to cover it. It was clean, it met the basic necessities and we loved it. I took pictures, I waved at a 50 year old lobster as I swam by him, he waved at me with his enormous claws. I had salt and sand in my hair, I wore no makeup and didn't even pack a blow drier.

I was just me. Jenn. It was in every sense of the word the happiest days of my life. This photo makes me cry a little every time I see it. Its the only picture of me I like. I think its because I know now and knew in that moment how blessed I was to have that time. I think maybe a part of me knew how rare those days are, how difficult it is to feel truly unburdened in this world. And maybe now looking at the photo makes me a little scared that I won't feel that way again in my lifetime.

It sure is worth fighting for though isn't it?