The Hand

I'd been in town for three hours and all I wanted to do, was lie by the water.

It was hot, very hot and the sweat was free pouring down my spine.

I'd been travelling in the Canary Islands. Next stop, England, to see my daughter and her two week old, baby girl, my grand daughter.

I found the nearest beach, from the front-desk clerk. It was a beautiful walk. Outlandish looking cactus grew with brilliant flowers that draped over white-washed walls.

I found a beach and spot for my towel and sat till I needed to cool down.

I waded up to my knees, then turned, facing my towel.
But I didn't make it back. A compounded wave hit the back of my legs. I scrambled to find my footing but was dragged out to sea, then pushed over rock and sand, feeling my chest-skin ripping.

The third time out to sea, I was totally out of breath. I couldn't stand or fight for air anymore.

My right hand, clenched a boulder, as the outgoing wave tugged at my legs.

Just then a hand appeared. Was I hallucinating?
I grabbed the hand, hanging on for dear life, and was lifted up to stand.

This lady and I exchanged no words. No common language. If not for her, I wouldn't have met my grand daughter or seen my daughter again.

I think of this day often and thank this angelic lady, for her hand that saved me.