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A day at the beach

I run down the boardwalk, not worrying about getting splinters in my tender

feet. Every ten or fifteen feet I stop, sometimes to smell the salty sea air, but

mostly to wait for my parents who plod along behind carrying chairs, coolers, and

other beach paraphernalia. I yell back to them to hurry, and they reply that I can

run ahead and find a good spot. I yelp with glee and run as fast as my little legs

will carry me. I stop where the dark, brown of the boardwalk meets the light,

white of the beach. My dad warned me about how hot the sand can get. I

cautiously take a step forward testing the sand, OUCH, he was right. What am I

gonna do now, in my six year old eyes the water seems to be a mile away. Again I

look out to the ocean which seems to stretch for days in all directions. I am

determined to reach it, no matter what sacrifices I must make. I step forward again

testing the sand, still white hot. I pull my courage from the corners of my being

and make a run for it. This isn’t so bad if I run really fast. The wind blows in my

face, bringing with it that smell, almost a taste of the ocean. It seems to be a

combination of fish, salt, people, and water all mixed into one. I continue to run

until I reach the water’s edge where the waves crash upon the beach, making the

white sand brown and hard. I sit down on the sand, panting after my enormous

effort. Something troubling pulls at the edge of my mind, but I ignore it. A wave

rolls up to the beach, crashing around me, wetting me hot body. I dig my body

into the moistened ground, covering my legs and arms with the cool, wet sand. I

hear my mom calling to me to come up to the umbrella. I turn back to look at her,

as I do so the little thing at the edge of my mind suddenly dawns on me. I made it

out to the water, now I must make my way back.

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