I felt infinite the first time I was brave enough to submerge myself in the ocean. The waves were stronger than I was, but that was ok. I allowed myself to be carried through the water without feeling threatened at its power. I allowed myself to ride the waves, jumping at the right time so that the water caught me, and gently lowered me down, allowing my toes to feel the warmth and safety of the sand again.
I felt infinite that first day of summer when I was 15. So perfectly happy that I chopped off 5 inches of my hair. The sight of clumps of my hair on the white tiles, like bugs, should have made me guilty, but I felt more free than ever. My head was as light as it had been when I was 7. When I was last free.
I felt infinite when I watched her say no to him that day in the garden. It was the first day in Spring that truly felt like Spring; the air was lighter than it had been in months. Or maybe, I was.
I felt infinite the first time I drove after getting my drivers license. Driving at 65 down the Pacific Coast Highway, with just the waves a company to me and my radio. No one heard my voice give out when I couldn’t reach the high notes. No one watched as I sang to the hundreds of cars ahead of me, pretending the people in them were traitors. Crushes, long lost friends, enemies, who had all betrayed me.
I felt infinite the first time on an ice rink after two years. My feet greeted the ice, and they acted as though they had never been apart. The cold air rushed past me as I gained speed on the ice, and despite the flush in my cheeks, I felt warm. I was at peace with my former self, the one who couldn’t remember her last time on the ice.
I didn’t feel infinite when I was a wallflower. Stuck like a memory, reduced to a moment in time.