Like Crystals on the Beach

The road leading to my fondest childhood memories had no name. It was merely a road my dad, sister, and I took to the beach every weekend. The anticipation of seeing the ocean for the first time that summer swelled within all three of us.

"I hope there are enough waves" I think to myself. What good is an ocean without the waves? It would merely be a salty abyss without the waves. The waves are what made the ocean spiritual and alive. The crashing of the waves released our stresses and graciously took them back to the ocean.

There were hardly any people there that day. A couple of local fisherman set up their long poles in the sand, the lines of which float out into the distance waiting for the first hungry fish. They looked so peaceful together as they sipped on their beer. Like brothers the ocean had personally invited to enjoy the day.

As I was thinking about the fishermen my dad and sister had already gotten out of our small truck. The sun was hot and the breeze was cool. I open the door and step out of the truck placing my pale feet onto the hot sand.

My sister asks what I want one a sandwich although she probably already knew the answer. We had such similar tastes back then. We looked so much alike people asked if we were twins. Although we weren't we still shared a lot of the same qualities. Finishing each others sentences, knowing what the other is thinking or when something was wrong.

Papa was laying out a couple of chairs for us to sit and eat in. I sit down and dig my feet into the sand, making small mountains of earth in front of my chair. I looked out over the surf and wonder how far the next beach is across it. I wanted to swim to Mexico one day. I had planned on it until I learned how far it actually was.

The surf was just rocky enough for some waves. The white crests broke at the top then smashed into the water below. I could watch it for hours and probably did back then. I could almost taste the salt as it washed back and forth, over and over.

The food was ready. Typical beach fare, sandwiches and chips. The seagulls spotted us and tried to get our meal but were easily fended off. One bite and I was reminded that no true sandwich at the beach is complete without a little sand grit sticking to your mayo. A little texture never hurt. We passed around a big bag of chips,occasionally tossing one to the flock of seagulls nearby. We always
got a kick out of watching them fight for their share. That's all those birds were ever
good for.

Then it was time for the real fun, the ocean itself. When going to the beach there was always a ritual me and my sister did. We would first walk out into the shallowest of waters, just covering our feet to test the temperature. If the temperature was not appealing we knew it was the oceans way of telling us to stay
away. Luckily, the ocean was warm today and clearer than normal. We played in the mud for a little while and look for shells and small fish. Finally we asked our dad to go out into the deep water with us.

We walked out into the ocean together, the three of us side by side. We would move past where the waves would crash and rest for a moment before moving onwards. We would go out so far we wouldn't be able to stand so me and my sister would hold onto our dads arms and shoulders. We always would be afraid of jelly fish after all three of us were stung the year before. Our dad reminded us that there is no reason to fear unless the water changes temperature suddenly. That was the warning sign that jelly fish could be near. But not this day.

By now we were out so far you couldn't hear the crash of the waves anymore on the shore. The wind had died down. All you could hear were the fish jumping into the air and back into the water. If you were dead still they would leap out right in front of you. We kept moving, looking for the sand bar we always stand on to rest.

We stumble upon it, my dad grateful it wasn't further. We timidly let go of our Dad and stand on the sandbar and look back at the shore. It seemed so far away, like it was an unfamiliar place. If you looked left or right, all you saw was the water. Standing with my back to the shore I could pretend I was really in the middle of the ocean.

I felt so free standing there. I surrendered myself to the ocean's power. It could do what it wanted to me. I was at it's mercy. The ocean was gentle though and kind to us who had treated it shores with respect and care.

Looking back to the shore you could see the small broken shells shimmer like crystals in the sun. The ocean let us return to the beach but had us promise to return and visit it soon.