Last week I spent seven lovely days in Hatteras on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I had never been to the OBX, as the locals like call it. What a lovely place. Hatteras surprised me in so many ways. Unlike most east coast beaches, including the favorites of my youth, it was not overdeveloped. Most days it was us, the beach, and a few hyperactive sand plovers.
Oh, and sharks, too. A week prior to our arrival there was a shark attack on Ocracoke Island, the next "bank" over from us. A shark ATTACK. On a small child. Named Lucy. Although the shark took a big chomp on Lucy's foot, she's ok and reportedly forgives the shark. Turns out, she always liked dolphins "way better." Who can blame her, really. I'm terrified of sharks. Usually my love for floating among the waves outweighs my fears. This time, 8 months pregnant, I felt a little more nervous. I was swimming for two and found myself defensively covering my belly with my hands and arms while I floated. In the event of an attack, I would probably lose my hands and arms, but no shark was feasting on my pregnant belly. Absurd? Probably.
