The tides were strong and her mouth had tasted enough of the salty water from the sea. She had no idea why she kept trying to survive. Why wouldn’t she just give up and drown? Her limbs felt numb from her attempts to remain afloat the boisterous waters. What was this thing that kept her trying to fight back? She was going to die. She looked left and right and she could see nothing—no rescue boats, no home, nothing. She was shivering, her nose was runny, her wet hair was clinging to her face and then she decided. She was going to stop trying. She looked around her for the last time to be sure there was nothing else to be done and finally she looked up. It was a starless sky. She couldn’t know who told her this, but she just knew that on nights such as these where there wasn’t a single star in the sky, there was no hope. She stopped kicking and she let herself go.

Was it within five seconds or ten, a minute or two, she couldn’t tell, but she was sure of a strong yet gentle arm lift her from the sea. She could feel goose pimples become more pronounced as the relief hit her. She was coughing and gasping for breath. What was the word that was used to describe things like this? Saved! She had been saved. A warm blanket was wrapped around her. She was fine. But then the sea was mad, angry that its captive had been freed. There was a strong tide as though the boat would capsize. There was an angry whirlpool that was fast approaching that made her heart miss a beat. But almost immediately before she could look at the Prince Charming who had just saved her, he dived into the water. And it was calm. She immediately reached shore. He had taken her place. That was when she understood the love that compelled salvation.

Usually, we are quick to brush aside the topic of the cross because we think of it as normal. It happened and that’s it. But then someone didn’t just save us from the place we were meant to be. He replaced us. He took our place and suffered as we should have. I don’t know about you, but that is something that barely happens in an entire lifetime. It’s an honour to be loved that much and for all the times I refused to see the extent of your love, I relive those moments and scream a medaase* for loving me beyond compare.


Medaase*- ‘Thank you’ in the Akan dialect

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