Tidal Pools

There is something supernatural about a world that appears and disappears every twelve hours.

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I have long been fascinated by shallow pools of clear water. I’m drawn to them by charm I do not understand. They’re inviting in some mystical, perhaps primordial way. Memories seem to be connected to such pools, though I have no such conscious memories. There are theories that memories can be carried by genes. Am I remembering some time before time. If so, then why doesn’t everyone.

I don’t know.

I do know that early humans often lived near shorelines. Lunch was as easy as searching shallow waters for shellfish. Food to hand, clear water, sandy beaches; idyllic memories worthy of remembering. Is my strange memory genetic memory, or just my imagination?

It doesn’t matter. The attraction remains.

I remember a double-spread picture in my first-grade workbook that showed both land and water in cross-section. It was a shallow woodland pool. There were frogs on land, one was sliding into the pool. Another was swimming in the pool. Dragonflies flew above. Water Striders skated across the surface of the water. Tiny fish and snails went about their business below. Two worlds revealed in one picture. It was magical. I studied that picture for as long as I could before the teacher moved me on to other studies.

I’m not sure if that picture started my fascination with shallow pools of water, or only the first time I noticed it.

Shortly after the workbook picture, I encountered my first wading pool. As I waded about I imagined myself a stork searching for imaginary little fishes swimming beneath the surface. Part of the attraction was thinking about the world above and the world below and how the two worlds sometimes connect. The other part of the attraction was the shallow water itself and how easily I could be in the water and out of the water at the same time.

By the time I was in High school, I had learned about tidal basins. This was the real thing. All I’d seen before were echoes of this greater reality. Not all tidal basins are in tropical waters. The ones that are enchant me are. I’m enchanted by the blue-green water, colorful exotic fishes, sea plants and castle-like corals - thriving in only a few feet of ocean - and only twice a day. The rule of the tides is part of the glamor. There is something supernatural about a world that appears and disappears every twelve hours. It seems a magical kingdom capriciously controlled by mischievous sea sprites. Yes, I know the science of the Moon’s effect on Ocean. How is that less mysterious than sea sprites?

The intrigue doesn’t change.

The curiosity of my peculiar attraction to shallow waters isn’t explicable. I’m almost convinced I am remembering what I shouldn’t be able to remember: ancient shallow seas, tossed and turned by the tides - in a time before time.

Is it a faraway memory-dream, or just an oddness in myself?

By K. L. Shipley

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