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I stood at the rim of the cliff with shallow breaths and arms folded across my torso as Uncle Chaka prodded me on to take the leap; still, waters that should have calmed me only raised the underlying angst within me. Murphy’s Law taught me, how quickly any sense of normalcy can be disrupted, with the myriad of experiences I encountered in my short life. With pre-emptive steps, I backed away to the safe confines of the forests and with eyes closed tight, I ran towards the horizon with an awkward yelp plunging into the dark depths that covetously swallowed me whole. “Atta girl! You’ve got that Adams’ will-power pumping in your blood for sure now.” Chaka applauded in glee after pulling me to the surface and prepared me for the dive we planned since arriving in Trinidad. I was seventeen years old when I decided to devote my life to understanding the mysterious creatures of the oceans; Phenomenal living proof that the impossible is possible and that limitlessness is a frame of mind. I wanted to live amongst them and learn their bravery; to be swarmed by the unknown and somehow still courageously live freely was impeccable and evolved into the ideal I envisioned when seeing the Leatherback turtles, and red bass or snappers perusing the colonies of coral reefs. We swam to the ocean’s edge with snorkel and goggles in tow, and with slow calculated breaths, we submerged ourselves into unchartered territory, Buccoo reef. My consciousness became heightened as I felt myself floating mid-water as if I were flying! The sheer thrill that I felt was unparalleled to any other feeling and my uncle’s giddiness at my excitement only cemented my adoration for the vast waters engulfing us. With a wave, he signaled me to follow him where we would locate one of the five reef flats surrounding Bon Accord Lagoon. I couldn’t wait to see the rainbow encased reef sheets and hopefully take a few photos to savour the memory. Completely absorbed in my thoughts, I failed to notice uncle Chaka’s disappearance, and with slow labored breaths, I stilled my mind to avoid panic. In and out. This was the mantra I repeated and was one of the first things about safety he taught me when in dire situations. While swimming towards the surface for help and air, I couldn’t ignore the streaks of light that invaded my visceral senses and illuminated a small underwater cavern. Treading carefully, I approached it until a hand grasped my shoulders prompting a loud gasp from me. “Where were you girl, I told you to stay close to me!” said an unfamiliarly frazzled uncle. “I’m sorry uncle, I wasn’t paying attention but remained calm like we practiced,” I said in attempts to soothe his worry. With narrowed eyes, he nodded towards the sea cave and said, “There is nothing to see in this place but the result of man’s negligence. This is not what I want for your memory.” His resolve didn’t acquiesce my curiosity, and instead, I swam in its direction challenging his authority. Sighing heavily he followed without protest. I didn’t expect to find the critical state of the ocean’s seafloor. Desolate waters housed the broken, white coral polyps resembling a forgotten graveyard rather than the kaleidoscopic ecosystem I dreamed about all these years. No signs of life or recovery were present and my heart burned with despondence and disappointment. To further catapult me down the proverbial sinkhole, discarded mass-produced plastics, bottles and other polyethylene by-products entered my periphery as they occupied the remnants of nature’s treasures. Having seen enough, we exited and surfaced in brief silence. “Some people just don’t care for the oceans like you and I do.” Uncle Chaka’s face mimicked a surgeon’s when they broke the news of death to a patient’s family as he said those words or at least that’s how it felt. Guilt and regret were the only emotions coursing through my veins and with what little breath I had left, I asked hoarsely, “So what do we do?” Sighing he answered solemnly, “The best that we can.”