The Beach-Personal Narrative

My sister and I are crossing the creek. My mom is with us too. Nana is already ahead of us, smiling back through relaxed lips and fond eyes. We’re all excited to have our feet in the sand. I’m excited that I’m not the only one excited. Madeline isn’t one to play; neither in sand, water, nor outdoor setting. She populates her mind with clutter and insecurities in all weeks but this one, and takes her time here to notice the footprints she leaves behind as she steps over wet and dry and rocky sand alike. She knows that she’ll remember every year spent at this place. Mom walks on the silver trail of broken seashells where the water kisses the sand fleas. I think she lives in all eras of herself on this beach. She doesn’t have to remember what doesn’t disappear. I stare at the horizon, where the sky and sea embrace. I watch the waves meet my feet and they don’t greet or give regards before they rush past my ankles and rush even quicker back into themselves. There is a swell in my chest, in my heart and in my gut, as well, that pulls me towards her. I know that I’m futile in comparison, and I recognize that I’m afraid, so I reach as far as my sight allows into the vast mystery and yet absolute reality of the water. There is no force of nature that exists on such an equable plane of understanding as the ocean does. There is no person that is so unfaltering in their admiration for a big puddle as I am. Out of seven days, there is only so much time that we can set aside for trips

It was October 24th, 2012, when my sister and I were watching the news. We sighed as the waves we once played in had destroyed the beach house that belonged to our beloved grandma. The boardwalk we once walked with our family was destroyed. The rides we once road were in the water. Our hearts broke as we watched the pine tree my grandfather once planted sway back and forth. How could Mother Nature destroy the places we have vivid memories of?

Traveling the distance for a day of no school, work and responsibilities for a quick getaway, is the medication to a happy lifestyle. So we set off a trip to a destination that is worry free. The long car ride is spent singing to our favorite throwback songs and arguing about the dumbest of things, like who ate the last slice of pizza the night before or maybe even who left the seat up last. All of which are moments worth a chuckle. When we finally arrive at the wonderful place, the first breath of fresh air is taken as the door to our white suburban is opened and we come into contact with the grounds of Pismo Beach. With the help of the seven individuals that poured out of the cramped car; we start to unpack the trunk with gadgets that are needed for the day to begin. Ice chests, sand buckets, shovels, foldable chairs, towels and a radio, all come along with us in our journey for a day at the beach.

At the same time, the people on the other island are coming over to the beach island on a raft they had built. Jed is looking after the sick people in the camp, and Rich has to watch what's going on with the rafters. So, from now on, he's out alone all day, smoking grass and talking to his imaginary friend mister Duck.

I hear a rustle from the east side of the beach. I didn’t see them coming, I didn’t even hear them coming until now. My little brother said they came sailing on the ocean like enormous, brown rocks seemingly floating aimlessly without a purpose. I’m not sure about that. They definitely seem to have a purpose. I wonder why they’re here, and what they want, I hope its good but I have this eerie feeling in my stomach and the hair on my back is standing up. It’s not a good sign. They look so pale and deformed. I think the man with the moonlight hair must be the leader. His clothes are so colorful and shine like the glistening sun. Oh, and that man has red, thick hair all over his face. How strange, I’ve never seen that before. I’ve never seen

Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! The snow sounded as I walked down the snowy white path. Winter, the perfect time to go ice skating, and that’s exactly what I was doing. The lake has frozen over and was covered with snow. Yesterday my dad went down there and shoveled a huge part of snow so we could ice skate. A mini skating rink, just for us, and completely free. It was around 11:00 am when I started walking down from the cabin we were renting.

The beach has a certain power over me, to unwind and to let thoughts disappear from the cluttered mess inside my heads. The atmosphere can change the worst of days into the best. It might be the soft sounds of waves crashing, the salty breeze blowing through my hair and whipping on it back onto my face, the light beaming from the moon, or the feel of millions of grains of sand below on my feet. This unique combination of touch, sound, smell, sight, and taste creates an unmatched feeling of serenity at the beach.

Standing unsteadily in front of the rusted stop sign, bent from the core, I placed my shaking hand on the razor like edges of the sign. Glazing beyond the lifeless trees, a tear shed down my face. I placed a flower respectfully on the uneven, gravelled road. To think today marked five painful years. I stumbled backwards as the dust from the gravel rustled up underneath my feet. The metal framed chair reflected into my eyes as Oscar began to move.

The clock was ticking. I sat there on the old, hard floral couch. I could hear the faint sounds of the loons calling out to each other on the lake. Watching the long hand on the clock move ever so slowly, felt like torture. I had on what seemed to be my lucky sweatshirt this trip and a light jacket, with my hair pulled back in a ponytail in a ball cap. My grandpa walks into our little cabin, his face looking rough, you could tell that he hadn’t shaved this morning. My grandpa and I have always been very close. I’m his only granddaughter, so you could say that I am very spoiled He strode over to me and asked how his girl was. I gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. He looked right at me reading exactly what was on my mind. It was time to go fishing.

We walk down old, crumbling stairs to see a white sand beach and blue, sinuous waters ahead. Every step down we take, the distinct smell of the water enters our noses and exits clean and untouched as we inhale out. On the beach, families are sitting on their blankets and folding chairs, with their umbrellas open to hide them from the harmful rays of the sun. Kids run around and splash each other in the cold waters of Lake Michigan. We find a nice spot on the beach, lay down our towels, and sit down. The beach is one of the cleaner ones in New Buffalo, but pull tabs of cans, gum wrappers, and glass lies beneath the sand. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” I hear someone say. A few second later, I hear loud talking behind me and turn my head around. A new family has arrived to the beach. I see a son, a daughter, a mother, and a father. The teenage kids go and get themselves set up on the beach, only to sit down and scroll through their social media feeds, not taking off their oversized american flag sweaters or ripped, blue jean shorts. The parents catch up with the other family and talk about some vacation they took to the Bahamas last spring. I hear the whole story, every detail of it to be exact, because it takes some time to learn how to block out the background noise of relatives seeing each other after a month apart. Music, that everyone in this community knows can be heard playing on a bluetooth speaker. As I observe the moving waves, I think to myself, is this what

The beach is known for being a place to relax; the beach I went to was a run-of-the-mill beach, tan sand with rocks next to an aqua sea, I was there with my Mother and family on a cloudless day in summer 2009.Nevertheless we were on the beach, it was filled with umbrellas of all colors, filling the beach like a canvas with hundreds of strokes on it. Starting our trip started with setting up our blanket and umbrella so we could sit down to relax at the start, but we all wanted to head out and swim so I put on my yellow goggles and arm floaters with dolphins on them, heading into the water which was reasonably warm in 90 degree weather . We were fairly deep into the water, the goggles and arm floaters were making sure I kept above the water as well as not inhaling any, it was fun splashing my family or going underwater to test how far we could see which was four inches. Out of nowhere, my Mother had screeched “Just stand sideways, you’ll be fine!”,abruptly, I saw it towering over us, a shadow coming towards us, I started to run away, or at least make an attempt to. Fear consumes me ,my only thoughts were heading to shore where I would be safe from the wave, I barely went half a foot away before it grabbed me. It grabbed on, dragged me to the middle where I couldn’t move up to inhale air or push myself off the bottom to jump, I was trapped under the water, waves above taunting knowing I was trapped. Water was running past , I started to feel a strong tug on my head, before I could realize what was going on, my goggles were dashing away with the water, but I could still open my eyes under the water without the sting of saline water in my eyes.

By far one of the most beautiful and tranquil places I have visited, the Sea Pines Resort on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina leaves me in awe every time. The overall beauty of the island is second to none and makes you want to stay forever. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, like when the week at the luxurious resort is over. The number of things to do on the resort is suitable for all ages and all personalities alike, from biking, shopping, recreational activities, or just going to the beach, Sea Pines truly does have something for everyone. The Sea Pines Resort on Hilton Head Island is one of the most beautiful resorts on the east coast. Highlighted by its beautiful beaches, extensive bike paths, and world class scenery, this is a place I will never forget.

After lazily waking up, my family and I head to the beach to enjoy the brisk day. It’s only around seventy-five degrees, but that doesn’t falter our excitement for the beach. The sun shines through the clouds as we head down to pick a spot. The waves are calm and inviting as we lay our stuff down. The wind is moving through the beachgrass like a quiet whisper. The seagulls caw, and attempt to steal the snacks we brought. There’s some kids playing in the water, but more are playing in the sand since the water’s so cold. Days like this are quite typical at the beach in Hilton Head, South Carolina.

At night, when you open the door you are greeted by a brisk breeze. The place is relaxed and the soft white sands gleam in the half lit sky, as the sky turns from a bright blue to autumnal colors. As you take a walk along the shoreline, you hear the gentle movements of the sea and the distant sound of crickets chirping and rustling in the bushes. Tasting the salt in the air when you inhale. The sand feels comforting on your bare feet as you shiver from the chilly breeze coming for you. You stop under a palm tree to your right and gaze at the comely sunset as the air becomes noticeably cooler.

Every morning, I would wake up and look out of my window. I would admire the vast expanse of shimmering ocean that stretched beyond the horizon. My bedroom window in the back of the house looked over the enclosed porch, over the sea wall, and onto the beach. Entranced by the lull of crashing waves, I would become memorized at the immensity of it all.