Personal Narrative On The Beach

The other week I went camping and my friend Bri fell into a lake at Stokes National Forest. Bri screamed “Caroline!” as she flew into the lake!

Even if it looked alright or if I thought I could make it, the mud did not support my weight. Yet if I walked alongside the trail, dried grasses and roots of trees provided the necessary traction. As my friends and I struggled alongside each other, we were able to help one another when we found a solid foothold.

Seagulls soared delicately over my head and the race of the waves upon the shore had made it clear that it was the perfect summer day in California. Various kites of contrasting colors and shapes flew overhead as they danced with the wind. In its essence, the exquisite body of the abysmal, salty water glistened to its heart’s content. My mom, my sister, and many of the many friends of my mother’s were enjoying a pleasant stroll in the cool breeze. T-shirts, shorts, sunglasses, and vibrant colored swimming suits were what filled the San Diego beach as a common apparel.

It was a nice sunny day on the beach in the Bahamas. There was a nice, calm breeze and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. In the distance there were other islands and boats, and a giant building. It looked like a picture out of a magazine.

Walking on the hot sand and spending time by the water with family and friends. The first time i went to the beach was one to remember.I went with my mom, my dad,my brother Preston, and Kiki my cousin.

If it wasn’t for the small particles of sand in between the lens of my Canon Rebel SL1 and the vivid memory of the way the ocean kissed my feet as it crawled up the hot sand, I would have had to leave behind the Texas coast for my small dorm room located in America’s heartland entirely. I didn’t though, and I find that to be one of the most beautiful things about the human experience. That we are nearly boundless when it comes to how far we can travel and what we can bring back from those places. If you asked me to open up my suitcase of memories and stories and pick out my favorite one, I’d hold out to you the time I camped overnight on the Port Aransas Beach.

“Crisp salt air, deserted beaches, crashing waves and golden sunsets.” All these words describe the breathtaking and serene place that makes my troubles go away. Nestled right at the city borders of Laguna Beach and Newport Beach, Crystal Cove Beach offers almost 3.5 miles of pristine waters and stunning views. With easily accessible tide pools and historic cottages, this beach can be a popular spot for beachgoers throughout Southern California. However, on an overcast day, with no one around my best friend and I, an overwhelming feeling of peace and tranquility fills my being.

A beating drum It's in my lungs I breathe it in, it takes my breath away I don't look back It's just a trap We are all one but we're not the same

As i look in the mirror on friday morning before school i see fair skin, tanned by the many days in the sun. My long hair cascading down my back in natural beachy waves. Blonde as the white sand beaches here in Destin Florida and my eyes as blue as the ocean. I was what people called the perfect image of what people on the beach should look like.

I am likely the only applicant to save a random child from falling off a cliff at a San Diego beach. In 2014 my family and I went to San Diego to visit my mom’s side of the family during Labor Day weekend. On the Sunday that we were there my grandma’s church had a picnic at the local beach after liturgy was over. At the beach my friends and I did all sorts of typical Middle Eastern things such as eat hummus, play backgammon, and swim in the water. But suddenly in the midst of me eating my kabob I noticed a small three year old boy playing dangerously close to the cliff that was there. But when I looked around everyone else seemed so oblivious and nonchalant about what was going on. I immediately jumped to my feet, ran over to where the boy

Down a gravel road that would destroy any low-rider, we drove. I was riding in the backseat bouncing up and down as if on a pogo stick. I looked out of the window to help ease my stomach only to see a wall of rock staring back at me. After a few seconds I bored of this sight, I looked forward and stared into the valley. It looked like the car was about to leap off the road and attempt flight but it was just another sharp turn. We continued to bounce down the road for what seemed like an eternity while being serenaded by Metallica. We finally arrived at the parking area, it wasn’t much of one at that but it had never been and it was full. We decided to take our chances and park on the side of the road. I hopped out of the car feeling like my

I am from pots and pans, from cookbooks and random mixing of ingredients. I am from the glossy clay in the ground, from the dreidels my ancestors gambled with. I am from the family christmas tree, from the branches that have lingered waiting to be decorated . I am from chestnut hair and peridot streaked eyes, from the Advocates and the Rosses. I am from the hands on builders and the stick to the book learners, from the academics and from the arts.

The air was cold and windy. The beach was black, with small glossy pebbles, and shells. The shells on the beach where beautiful, shiny, and large bigger than my head. The water was gray with rocks that were big enough to climb on. The rocks held puddles of water with ocean life living in them. Small crabs where running over my feet as I sat on the rocks looking at the wave splash against it. A small trail going off of the beach, going to a

A gentle breeze blew as I walked across the light-colored sand. The waves rolled calmy, and the sun was almost setting. Memories of hot, lazy days and dripping, sticky ice cream flooded in my head. In one, there was a little girl, with a goofy smile, laughing as her mom and her dad were splashing her, and playing in the salty sea. I felt my eyes getting

3-D appearance, like cotton balls strategically placed. The sand was wet and warm under my feet. It was squishing between my toes, but the sand was not too hot to walk on. The water was not the blue I had expected, the color was some kind of off green color, but it was still beautiful. The waves were crashing in creating white caps after white caps. The tide rolling in was loud. It wasn’t overwhelming, just enough you could close your eyes and drown out the world if you so desired. The day was warm with a bright sun shining down on us. There was just enough of a breeze to help the day not feel hot. My daughter said she remembers the water smelling clean, like an ocean mist scented candle. I do not remember a particular smell. I do remember it didn’t smell like fish. We played in the water for hours. I got to much water in my mouth, which was very salty. It was like I took a salt shaker and emptied it into my mouth. This was my picture-perfect moment I had been waiting for. This moment was not planned. On a whim, we traveled to this spot in Perdido Key, Florida.