A Sense of Vellichor

I had never seen anything so magical before. Every aspect of the island was like something straight out of a dream, and I never wanted to wake up. Goosebumps covered my body, and I wasn’t quite sure whether it was because of the cool breeze or the scenery ahead. All my senses blended into one.

The first note to greet my nostrils as our boat stopped at the island’s deck was the freshness of salty sea spray, effortlessly carried by the wind like a feather. It was precisely that intermingling of salt and earth that truly captivated my senses. The scent of wet sand, warmed by the sun, intertwined with the salty embrace of the sea, created a unique aroma that was both grounding and invigorating. It was the essence of the island itself. It was a scent that would forever linger in my memories, a sensory portal to a world where the sea and land danced in perfect harmony. I had never been to the island before, but in some strange way, it felt like home.

“Can we get off the boat?” I couldn’t contain my eagerness as my eyes scanned the landscape, struggling to process the new imagery.

I stepped off the boat and my bare feet instantly sunk into the bleached sand. I had never liked the feeling of sand against my skin, its rough grains always clung to me, refusing to allow me a moment of comfort. Sand was the bane of my existence. So why was I profoundly enjoying the sensation of this one? I looked down and instantly understood. It was as though I was walking on a bed of lavender blossoms. With each step, I sank into the sand’s velvety embrace and the sand yielded, molding itself to the contours of my feet. It was flawless. It seemed unfair that a place like this existed outside of a painting, and that animals had the natural gift of inhabiting this land. I found myself growing quite envious of the animals the further I ventured onto the island.

The sun’s soft glow brushed against my face. The light, like liquid gold, streamed through the swaying leaves, casting a mesmerizing pattern on the ground, creating a kaleidoscope of dancing shadows on the sandy path. I was at a loss for words, the island’s beauty swallowing me whole and filling me with an inexplicable sense of gratitude. I had completely forgotten the tour guide’s presence and was only reminded of my temporary stay as a weathered wooden sign caught my attention. The plank seemed to sprout from the sand like a forgotten relic, its wooden post firmly rooted in the earth as it stood defiantly amidst the shifting dunes. I strayed away from the guide and moved closer to the sign. The once vibrant paint had faded but the words were still discernible. It read “Welcome to Maya Bay Island,” the weathered letters standing as a testament to the passage of time; a reminder of the path waiting to be explored by me the same way it had been explored by thousands before.

The heart of the island was filled with trees and bushes, various shades of green that provided a compelling contrast to the faded sand. Birds sang as their wings fluttered above. They soared through the air and my gaze followed them till they landed on several branches of a distant tree. I didn’t quite know where to direct my attention. Everything was far too stunning, and I was overwhelmed with the mystical scenery.

My feet led me back toward the shore. I gazed at the water as it stretched ahead like a never-ending illusion, and the urge to jump in nearly knocked me off my feet. I’d loved the water since I was a child. But I was fully clothed, having forgotten to bring a bathing suit with me. The water was perfectly clear liquid crystal, displaying the fish and marine life as if it were a portal to another world entirely. It was captivating. Every ripple and wave seemed to come alive, as if the water held the secrets of an invisible world. “Screw it.” I whispered under my breath.

I leapt into the water. A rush of coolness enveloped me the moment my feet broke the surface. The water embraced me like a long-lost friend, beckoning me to surrender to its gentle currents. My senses heightened when I submerged deeper, and I finally understood the true meaning of peace. This was it. The weight of my drenched clothes clung to my skin, but I couldn’t care less as I immerged and breathed in the salty air with a newfound sense of vigour. Sunrays warmed my face and the taste of saltwater lingered on my tongue. I felt a sense of liberation. The sound of other people chattering in the water reached my ears, but I wasn’t bothered. It served as white-noise. The fabric of my clothes, saturated and heavy, swayed gracefully with each movement of the sea.

I swam towards my parents and was instantly greeted with their laughter. I grinned, gleeful at the feeling of water, and their laughter contorted with a strangely prideful disbelief. Disbelief that I’d jumped in despite not having swimwear. Disbelief that I’d done exactly as they’d predicted. Disbelief that, although I was no longer a child, some things really never change.