Oysters on the Half Shell

It's my last day in Florida. My mother and I go out to lunch at a local seafood place. We sit out on the deck overlooking the water. She really wants some oysters, so we order half a dozen as an appetizer.

Raw, on the half shell.

Even though I was raised on seafood, I've never tried raw oysters. My mother reminds me that when my sister and brother and I were just tiny, we'd stand around our dad with our little mouths hanging open as he shucked scallops, just waiting for him to toss one our way. We loved them.

And nowadays, I love sushi.

Raw oysters?

Why not?

I pick up a shell and pierce the slimy blob with my fork. Just as I am about to slide it into my mouth, my mother says, "It tastes just like you're swimming."

It does.

I close my eyes and let it roll around inside my mouth a bit before I chew just a little and swallow.

I could be in the ocean.

I squeeze a little lemon on another one and I'm ready for my next plunge.