THE STORY OF THE WOMAN WHO SAW A MERMAID

The beaches I am used to visiting are the ones I grew up around. These are the beaches carved from the rugged Pacific coastline— chilly beaches featuring big waves, drift wood, caramel-colored sands, hermit crab tidal pools, and sea lions bobbing curiously in the rough surf. It was quite the change of scenery when I moved to the warm climates of Florida to go to school. The beaches in Florida weren't anything like the beaches I grew up building sand castles on. The endless pale sands were fine, the sea was flat and warm, the sky was white, and there were alien flowers growing there. It even smelled completely different. It took some getting used to. I didn't need a vehicle to get around. I could take public transportation wherever I needed to go. This included using a water taxi, which is the same thing as a regular taxi service, only you could hail one at the water's edge and would step into a boat, rather than a car, in order to get to your destination. During one solo adventure in Ft. Lauderdale, I stood at the edge of the canal, waiting for a water taxi to pass by which would shuttle me to the beach. It was midmorning, and the sun was reflecting off the dark waters of the Intracoastal Waterway. That morning, I saw something swimming in the depths of the water, and it was moving closer. I couldn't quite make it out, what with the sun obscuring my view, so I pulled off my sunglasses, and shielded my eyes with the flat of my hand. I saw the tail first. It was gracefully, almost sensually , fanning the water, propelling its body along slowly. There was a creature lurking about in the shallow depths. It was huge, and it freaked me out. Horizontal tail — a mermaid? I leaned forward, as far as I could go without falling in, trying to get a better look. Definitely not a sea lion! Sea lions have flippers. I'd grown up seeing them basking on the dry docks of the Wharf as tourists threw their table scraps to the frenzied, barking melee. However, this thing was sporting a single, horizontal tail, and it was unlike any of those pinnipeds I was used to seeing. Hind-end of a sea lion. And it wasn't a whale. It didn't have the customary blowhole which are unique to cetaceans. In my young mind, that flat, horizontal tail could only mean one thing: MERMAID—definitely mermaid . The animal passed by, and I never did get a good look at the entire thing, but from what I saw, I believed it was a mermaid. Twenty years old, and I was convinced I'd been blessed to have seen a mythical creature of the deep. Days later, I was disappointed to learn it was actually a manatee. Until then, I'd never heard of them before. We don't have manatees in California. I learned that they were an endangered species (at the time) and that my sighting may have been a rare, last glimpse of a species on its way towards extinction.

Luckily, conservation has led to a rise in numbers for certain species, and manatees have made a comeback. Today, they have been bumped off the endangered species list. It's a start. As for mermaids, it's far too late for them. I'm afraid their species has been extinct for quite some time now. ***prbxselfnetwork***