My name is Mark. I live by the sea and have spent my whole life on the water — working on a small fishing boat with my friend Robert. We know every curve of the bay, every rhythm of the waves. It felt like the ocean held no more surprises for us.
But one day, something happened that completely changed how I see the sea.
That morning was ordinary. We went out early, just as the sun was rising. The air was fresh, and the water shimmered with golden light — it seemed like it would be an easy, calm day. We cast our nets and sat chatting about nothing in particular.
Then I noticed movement right beside the boat — a small shape gliding just under the surface.
“Look,” I said to Robert, “a dolphin.”
Sure enough, a small dolphin was swimming next to us. Just a young one, barely two meters long. He stayed close to the boat, almost as if seeking company.
At first, we thought it was simple curiosity. Dolphins sometimes follow boats. But this one was different. He didn’t leave. He swam beside us for hours, as though he didn’t want to be alone.
I noticed that sometimes he would rise to the surface and look straight at me — and in those eyes, there was something deeply human, something pleading.
“Maybe he lost his mother,” Robert guessed. “Or his pod is far away.”
I nodded, but inside I felt something else — like he was trying to tell us something.
We stopped the engine, and the dolphin stopped too. He began circling the boat. Then suddenly, he leapt high out of the water — and in that instant, I saw something that made me gasp.
On his side, just below the fin, was a deep scar — a thick mark, as if a fishing net had once cut into his skin and held him there for a long time.
I froze. It all made sense — the poor little thing had been caught in nets and somehow managed to escape. But now he was alone.
“He’s looking for safety,” I said quietly.
We offered him some fish. The dolphin gently took the food and looked straight into my eyes again. In that moment, I realized — he trusted us.
In the following days, he came back again and again. We started waiting for him. He swam with us every morning, playing around the boat, leaping through the air. I noticed that whenever he heard the motor start, he would hurry toward us.
But then, something unexpected happened.
One morning, he didn’t come. We waited, scanning the waves, but he was gone. I felt an emptiness — as if I’d lost someone dear.
Days passed. Then one afternoon, I saw a familiar shape in the distance. My heart skipped a beat. It was him — but this time, he wasn’t alone. Two adult dolphins swam beside him, circling protectively. It looked like he was introducing us to them.
And in that moment, I understood — he had found his family.
Robert and I stood silently, watching as the three of them disappeared toward the horizon. I felt joy and sadness at once.
But the strangest thing happened later.
A week after that, we went out to sea again. Suddenly, three dolphins appeared near the boat. Among them was our little friend. He swam right up, leapt high, splashing us from head to toe — and when he surfaced again, he was holding an old piece of rope, a bit of torn fishing net, in his mouth. He dropped it onto the deck.
I stared at that scrap of net, realizing — it was his way of saying *thank you.*
It’s been years since then. But sometimes, when I go out to sea and see dolphins leaping in the distance, I like to think he’s among them. And every time, it feels like he’s still challenging the world — reminding us that even the smallest creatures never forget kindness.
