the little sea sprite

the sea rose to meet her as she stood in the surf. she squealed as the water drove the sand between her toes as though it were alive. she was no more than 6 years old, but already she yearned to plunge into the depths of the blue green sea to explore its mysteries.
accompanied by her family, the wind blew her sun bleached hair, making it tickle her face and caress her small brown shoulders. dressed in her favorite blue bathing suit, she had screamed with delight upon seeing her mother lay it out. her family may have wondered why she loves to gaze at the ocean as though seeking answers to questions that were beyond her young years. she giggled as the waves seemed to get higher and began to pull and push her body. she did not mind nor did she flee from the sea or feel threatened by it. the sea was her friend, ally, and provider.
unlike other girls her age, she did not turn her nose up at the sea as did some of her young playmates. she found the smell to be fresh, clean, and teeming with life. her mother would grow concerned and with just a look at her father, he would coax her back to the safety of the tide line.  
because of her love of the water and her foray which might endanger herself father would at times gently explain that while the sea was friendly for the most part, it could turn hostile if you did not fully understand its rages.
those who loved her shared and understood her love of the sea.
as the sun shone down upon this little child, it seemed her only true joy would come from the fathomless depths. her flashing smile and knowing look seemed to make the person who first bore the duty of bringing her back to the fold burning to ask, "vienen pequenos pescados." "ah, little fish, so much of life is before you, you see all through eyes that capture so much within you amid so much wonder. you have so many answers you will not share," they often noted. 
her father thought to himself, perhaps there will come a day when you share those deep and brave thoughts, but for now my young family our pail is full of the life from the sea and we must return home.
placing his little sea sprite upon his shoulder and picking up the pail of freshly caught fish the family turned away from their bountiful provider and happily made their way home.