Today was his day. He had been thinking about it all week. Working himself up to it. Willing himself into it. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but ever since he could remember, he wanted to do it - he needed to do it. For him, today was going to be the day.

There was nothing wrong with the beach. It was fun - he played with his friends there. They built castles, threw shells, frolicked in the waves, and of course laughed. But something was missing.

For as long as he could recall, he wanted to swim past the breakers to the poles that jutted out of the sand, creating a barrier to the shore. They had been a protective wall for driftwood and timber left behind from the ships in port up the shore. The older kids always challenged each other to swim out there. To touch them.

It was part of growing up.

And he had. He had made it and he didn't know what to do. He clung to them - his lungs heaving for more air. His legs felt numb. It didn't help that the water was cooler than normal today, but his muscles were tired - aching from paddling so hard for so long.

He wanted to let go - to swim back to shore. But he wasn't sure if he could. The poles were also slimy.  He contemplated letting go for a second, to rub his hands together, to get the algae off of them - to cleanse them, but he couldn't. He was too frightened. His grip was already loose enough - the barnacles on the poles from years past were on the verge of cutting his palms.

He wanted to catch his breath. He wanted to swim back to shore. He wanted to tell all his friends and family what he accomplished. He'd make it - he knew he would, even if it meant he had to wait.

The barrier may have been able to stop timber - but it would not stop him.