I remember the first time I thought I was going to die. I was four years old and had just fallen off my bike. The day after I learned how to ride my bike without my training wheels, I instantly wanted to ride everywhere. After playing all day at the park, I rode home pleased and tired. Just as I was about there, I saw my brother, sister, and their friends playing baseball. Right as I passed the empty lot, their ball went across the road and they yelled for me to get it for them. Unable to stop in time, I had to turnaround to retrieve it from the neighbor’s lawn. Unfortunately, when learning how to ride a bike, no one shares that turning the handle bars too far causes a bike to become unbalanced and fall over. I watched in horror as the ground came closer to my face, and then I watched as my hands flew out on instinct to save my nose. When I finally made contact with the ground, I felt instant pain in my palms and knees. I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks like butter on a pan as I looked down so see the damage done. Looking at my palms, there was little besides scrapes and blood on my left thumb. Looking at my knees, my right knee had a large scrape that was red from blood beginning to show and black from the dirt on the ground. On the contrary, when I inspected my left knee, there was already a trail of blood leading down to my sock. Horrified, I cried harder and panicked. All the big kids came running over and they all tried to help. My sister ran to our house to get our mother while my brother’s best friend scooped me up in his arms and carried me. My brother walked behind us with my bike and I heard him saying “You are so tough! You will have battle scars in a week!” Believing him, I tried to cry less, and he was right. The accident had left a small rock lodged in my left knee and I always used it as a reminder that I was extremely tough.

Docked on Daydream Island eight years later, I could not wait to start my next adventure: visiting the Great Barrier Reef. I stood waiting on the boat when suddenly I saw the floor grow closer to my face as I thought this could be the end of my life. Instantly, I was on the ground like a baby bird falling from a tree. I looked around to see if others had fallen when a wave swayed our boat suddenly. To my disappointment, everyone else had barely even stumbled while I was left with scraped palms and dirty knees. I quickly stood back up and joined my friends in laughing; it was nearly impossible to be upset when I was in such a beautiful country. Finally, they allowed us to get off the small boat, and we followed the rocky path towards the hotel to begin our newest adventure in Australia.

The hotel was beautiful and the rooms were spacious. Lying in bed after showering and picking out my outfit for the next day, I began to let my mind wander.

Enchanted by the idea of spending the next day at the park, the little puppy could not convince herself to fall asleep. She tried chewing her bone, spinning in a circle first, and even counting bones in her head. No luck. She looked up at the big clock. It was only midnight; seven more hours. Silently, she snuck out of her little bed and into the backyard which was against her owners rules. The little puppy crept down the porch stairs and through the fence hole that led to the base of a giant maple tree. She looked through the many leaves and saw the stars up above. She imagined for a moment that she was a bird. Soaring through the sky and flying up to humans to greet them. She spun and twisted as light as a feather; such as the ones on her wings. Suddenly, something caught her wing when she landed. Fearing for her life, she looked down. Seeing it was simply caught in a branch, she went to free it, but she saw her paw caught under a small rock rather than a wing caught in a branch. The little puppy had finally fallen asleep, but in the grass rather than her warm bed. After freeing her foot, she quietly ran back towards the house and into her bed. After settling in, she glanced at the clock once more, and now only had to wait three more hours. Thinking about her adventure tomorrow, the little puppy slowly drifted back into the night sky and became the small bird again.

I woke up easily that day and got ready in a rush. In an attempt to waste time until the boat arrived, I went to the gift shop to look for a souvenir for my sister. Finally, we boarded and set off towards the Great Barrier Reef.
Sprawled on the floor of a small tour vessel the size of a houseboat with eight other delegates and a leader, it was finally my turn. I excitedly drew the card that I needed and shouted in triumph as I completed my phase. Phase 10 happened to be not only my favorite, but also my strongest game. As everyone else finished their turn, I looked around to see that I was not in the lead. The boy to my left had also completed phase 8 that round. As I stared disappointedly, I noticed that the cards had started shifting slightly with the waves. Looking out the window, I realized that the intensity of the game had kept me from seeing that the waves had grown. And they grew and grew. Anxiously, I asked the leader playing with us if we were safe on this small boat, but she told me she was not sure. I glanced back out at the waves and curled into a ball on a seat as the fear of drowning set in.

Crashing as though they were pots falling from a shelf, the waves began to pursue our little boat. They rocked us in all directions; coming at us from all angles. The pots were clanging and the noise left a vibration in the air. If help would fail to come, the pots would surround everyone and everything and refuse to let their prisoners go; dragging their victims down into the core of their existence. This was the strange thing about the pots, although a single pot is nearly harmless, a group or pile can create a cage and trap their victim forever.

Curled into a tight ball still, I looked out into the vast sea and I realized that these waves could cause serious damage. I looked as they continued crashing into the sides of our small boat. Looking around, I saw workers rushing in attempt to calm the nerves of people such as myself. As an employee was headed over to settle down a younger kid in the booth next to me, I saw her trip as another wave shook us. After falling, she quickly stood up and continued on her path towards the delegate. I turned my head to the left towards my table to see my lanyard sliding. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the vent with its mouth open wide, ready to eat my prized possession. As it slid I saw a preview of each pin securely held into place on my lanyard. Each memory, each pin from my journey through Australia would vanish forever and destroy every recollection from those stops. I reached for my memories as the tail just slipped out of reach of my fingers. Eyes wide and fingers lost without my target secured, I could only watch as my lanyard slid down and I felt as though a part of me had died. Anger washed through me with as much force as the waves outside the boat. I was angry at the waves for rocking the boat, angry at the vent for its placement near the table, but also angry at myself for not keeping my lanyard around my neck like I should have. As I sat angry and upset, I almost failed to notice the younger kid crawl under the table and reach his small fingers through the cracks of the vent. My lanyard had snagged on the slots and his fingers were small enough to maneuver the lanyard through it and save my memories. Relieved, I quickly put it around my neck and thanked him graciously. He looked at me nonchalantly and quietly said, “It is nice to help others, especially after someone has helped you” as he glanced at the worker that had calmed him before.

Crouched in my booth still, a professional looking man stepped into the room and politely began an announcement. The roar of panic and waves drowned out his voice and he coughed loudly in attempt to get his audiences attention. Finally, he raised his voice and hollered, “If everyone would please quiet down and listen.” He went on to explain that the public tour boat had left shortly after us and would be approaching shortly. We had moved to an area where the waves were slightly calmer and we would board their boat which was large enough to handle the waves. Fifteen minutes later, they approached and we swiftly changed boats. The larger boat had a small food stand and photo booth in the lobby on the main floor, and a small upper level filled with lounge chairs. After switching to the tour boat, the waves did not seem quite as menacing or threatening. I quickly claimed a seat on the deck to get a view of the beautiful ocean. Back on track and headed towards the Great Barrier Reef once again, I overhead an older couple discussing whales and the breeds that lived in this area. Curious, I asked if we would see any on the rest of our journey, and they politely answered that it was possible but unlikely. Seeing whales was rare and lucky they told me. After that, I spent the duration of the boat ride searching the ocean. To my excitement, I spotted one just on the edge of the world! With pride and joy, I shouted out to everyone and they all crowded around to watch the graceful creature slip in and out of the water triumphantly.

Dying: on the point of death. It may also be a feeling that develops during any frightening situation such as falling off a bike or being on a boat that cannot handle the waves. The true beauty in life appears after dying is no longer an immediate threat. It may be found within, or something greater than anything ever known. Some may focus on the dying moments while others may focus on the moment after where life is cherished the most. The difference is whether a life is being spent worrying or lived to its full potential.