I'm at Ella's house. My heart's in my mouth.
The wind is whispering to the trees:
"Rumour has it Max and Ella have fallen out.
Best friends forever? Oh please!"
5 I want to turn back, retreat, leave instead,
When I call to mind something Dad once said.
It was years ago when I was very young,
My mind was as numb with anguish
As my skin was from the biting wind.
10 I was standing still, frozen and skittish,
Dad in the sea with his trademark grin:
"Come on โ it's not cold! Just dive in!"
Later, on the sand, hot chocolate in hand,
We both reflected, full of emotion,
15 On the terror, the thrill of the wild blue ocean.
"Remember," Dad said, "that it's all less grim
Once you go shoulders-under and swim."
So here I am now, frozen in trepidation,
My hand inching out to knock on the door.
20 Anxious and alone, I try to ignore
The encroaching ocean's deafening roar.
I've eased myself in: ankles, knees, waist-deep
Time to go shoulders-under, take the leap.
25 I knock. Time slows to a crawl before
Ella opens the door and says, "Oh โ it's you."
When I try to speak, the words escape me:
"I just came round... I came round to..."
My throat's stuck โ I choke, stutter, blunder.
30 But I hear Dad's voice: "Go shoulders-under!"
"I came to apologise," I splutter at last.
She nods, even smiles, says: "I'm sorry too.
Let's forget it all โ the past is the past."
I sigh with relief. From out of the blue,
35 I'm riding the waves, and I have to admit:
Cold water's not bad once you're used to it.