When a boy was three years old he wanted to just wade and splash in water.
At six he wanted to swim in it. The cavern by beach was his precious pirate’s cove. He wanted to send a message in a bottle to pirate Blackbeard and ask for treasure map leading to golden doubloons.
At nine he wanted to dive as deep as possible. Despite his parents’ warnings. Underwater world was much more exciting than normal one.
At twelve he wanted to throw flat stones on surface of water and count the bounces. Twelve was the record, same as his age. Twelve marvellous bounces. And that girl who wasn’t interested in bounces, he wanted to push that girl into water with all her Sunday clothes on. And he did. Lots of screaming followed but who cares.
At fifteen he wanted to shot one gigantisque boulder with giant catapult to water and observe what happens. How high would waves rise. A dynamite would of course be better choice, the boy had heard that his grandgrandfather had thrown a dynamite into some pond in forest when his platoon needed food during wartime. Lots of fish.
At eighteen he wanted to travel across the sea. And across the continent behind that sea. And across next ocean behind that continent.
At twenty-one he wanted to drown himself to water because his girlfriend had deceived him with his friend. He lost his two best friends just in two seconds. It took that long to open wrong door at wrong time.
At twenty-four he threw a bottle as long as he could and hoped it would float to the end of the world. The bottle was corked and sealed. Inside the bottle was his own treasure map: some hair of his own and his wife braided together, and with the braid was the letter titled “The Way to Treasure” to the “Dear Reader Unknown”. The letter was signed with two fingerprints of blood.
At twenty-seven he brought his own child to the water. He looked how a small timid boy started to splash water with his toes and then took courage to wade in it.