The Beach

It was sunrise when I first saw this beach.

Peaches and oranges marked the sky as light blues slowly took over for them. At age three this view was mesmerizing. A warm breeze drifted from somewhere behind me and I couldn’t help smiling. My mother gently grabbed my hand as I started to run away from her with excitement. She warned me to be careful here, that the water is very pretty but I was too young to go in alone.

The sand beneath my feet was soft. I knelt down to pick it up, then slowly let it glide out of my fingers as I watched it. As the sun rose the sand became warmer. We found a nice spot on the beach, not too close to the water. The smell of salt encompassed the air around us. My mother taught me how to build a sand castle. Together we built a whole kingdom. After hours playing in the sand my mother took me with her to the edge of the water. I giggled while avoiding the water as it came close to me before drifting away, and coming back again. A fun game of tag with the ocean. With my mothers permission I put my hand into the water. The coldness surprised me. Jumping backwards I looked at my mother with disbelief. How could this water that lay under the hot summer sun all day be cold?

My young mind held this question for mere moments before a seashell caught my eye. I picked it up, felt the ridges of it and asked if I could keep it. My mother obliged and watched as I happily skipped back over to where our beach bags were. I kept that seashell for most of my life before giving it to my own daughter when she moved out. Now it sits on a display shelf next to another seashell that she had found on her first beach trip.

Every summer was spent at that beach. As I grew my mother let me run about more, she even let me go in the water myself as long as I didn’t go out far. Countless hours were spent running around and avoiding sun bathers as I went. Once or twice I tripped on one, luckily they were not too upset.

I built many castles over the years. Kingdoms overlooking the sea. The same sea that would come and flatten them as the tide came in. By the next day the sand would be ready to have new ones built. All the while the cool sea air refreshed me.

As a teenager I didn’t run around the beach anymore. I enjoyed it slower. Many hours spent bathing in the warm rays of the sun. Eventually the sound of the ocean would sing out to me and I would go to it. The soft sand beneath my feet became harder and bouncy as I got closer to the water. A shiver went through my whole body as my foot first stepped into the ocean. Wading deeper into the water its cold bite was exhilarating. The coldness would turn into comfort once I had the bravery to put my whole head under.

When I got out far enough I would float on my back letting the small waves carry me off back to shore. This was peace.

As I grew I started a family of my own. The tradition continued and we would spend every summer there. The first two years of my daughters life we stayed back on the sand. She was too little for me to be comfortable being out in the ocean with her. When she was three I took her closer to the water. It was like looking in a mirror when I watched her jump back from the water, then move towards it, then back again. Playing the same game of tag that I did at her age. Her laughter filled me with warmth stronger than the sun above us. Year after year we spent enjoying the ocean together.

Eventually she had a baby too and the tradition continued with the new addition. Through sunglasses I watched my daughter showing the ocean to my granddaughter. She was experiencing the same thing I had when I first brought her here. A soft smile spread across my face as I relaxed on a beach chair. Thankful for the umbrella’s shade. Nothing made us happier than our times at the beach.

Eventually time started catching up with me. It was harder to move around, I was tired all the time. Nevertheless I made it to summer visits to the beach. My daughter and granddaughter helped me get onto the sand where I would sit and watch them. The water called to me, singing it’s sweet song. I so badly wanted to go in, to let the waves carry me away from all my worries. Before leaving I asked my daughter to help me to the water, she looked weary but agreed. With her help I hobbled my way to the water. Shaking slightly I bent down to touch it. A shaky smile rested on my face as I noticed a beautiful little shell. I reached over to pick it up, it was as if no time had passed at all. I was still that little girl picking up seashells while here with mom. My daughter helped me back to my feet and with slightly trembling hands I showed her my treasure. She gave me a reassuring smile and helped me back to our chairs.

Today is the first day I have seen my daughter cry while at our beach. She tries to hide her sobs as not to upset her child. She is trying to be strong. We enjoy the beach differently today, instead of sitting on the beach we take a trip farther out in a boat. It’s a beautiful evening, the sun is slowly receding behind us as we go out. The pinks and purples of the sunset are brilliant. Clouds ripple the sky mimicking the ocean below. We sit in this boat enjoying the sight together. My daughter still cries, I try to comfort her, to wrap an arm around her, remind her of the joyous days spent here. She shivers slightly and takes a deep breath in. She attempts to smile at her daughter, her lips quivering as she does. Her hands are shaking as she reaches for me. Together both my daughter and granddaughter hold my urn.

A whispered “I love you” from both their lips as they slowly lower me into the ocean.

I float here and look out at this beach one more time. bobbing slightly a smile crosses my face. Then I am free. The urn has let me go and my ashes become one with the ocean. My daughter and granddaughter, and one day her child as well will continue coming to this beach year after year. They will make many new happy memories together and look back at time spent with me with fondness. I rest easy.

It was sunset when I last saw this beach.