I was born high on a mountaintop, so close to the sky the clouds seemed to be near enough to touch. As a child, my knees were covered with the red earth, my face scratched by the tree branches, and my hands covered with the yellow pollen of wildflowers. In the days, I would climb up the sturdy pine trees, as high as I could go, and let the warm afternoon sun bake my face and shoulders. At night I sat cross-legged on the front porch praying for a lightening storm, thunder clapped in the distance and the brilliant light filled the night sky. In those days, Zeus seemed in constant rage, and the lightening was never ending. I was not scared of the violence of the storms. Instead, I was filled with excitement and awe.

             My family home sat on five acres between the river and the mountain. Often my family made trips to the river. My brother and I would jump in the crisp cool water and swim for hours. The smell of hot dogs my dad was grilling filled the air. My mother sat quietly by the bank reading a book, all the time keeping a watchful eye on my brother and I.

             The river, which wasn"t really a river at all but a creek, was a constant in my childhood. I would walk for miles on the banks or glide skipping rocks across its surface. Whenever anyone talked about great bodies of water, my mind would drift back to this small winding creek. It was the only body of water I had seen, so I was stunned to learn something as immense and endless as the ocean existed. .

             I first learned of the ocean from my first grade teacher Mrs. Sweet. Mrs. Sweet was teaching the class about natural ecosystems. I puzzled over exactly what an ecosystem was. It almost sounded like one of the company"s my dad frivolously invested his money into, hoping for a good return. I closed my eyes and pictured the sea in a plastic bottle. Mrs. Sweet explained that the sea was a habitat for hundreds of animals. She talked about a magical world filled with dolphins, jellyfish, and small plants called plankton.