I am gasping for breath as I try to orient myself. I cannot tell which way my body is facing because gravity seems to be absent from my nightmare of tossing and turning waves which run over me like a piece of worn beach glass. The once soothing cool water that nudged my boogie board along has betrayed me by ripping it out of my tightly gripped fingers as I try to hold on for my dear life. The dark abyss seems endless as I sink lower and lower until I feel my head and back smacking the hard beach floor.
My board slaps me in the face like a jealous girlfriend who is trying to teach me a lesson. My ally in riding the waves has switched teams and keeps coming back like a boomerang for the sole purpose of abusing my face as I am pulled through the craziness of yet another washing machine cycle. All my senses are heightened as the adrenaline is coursing through my body. I struggle to find the surface because I know that I am all alone in my fight for survival.
My lungs are bursting from a lack of oxygen because I have not taken a breath in hours. It seems like a miracle that I finally start floating towards the light to receive a long awaited relief. I am gulping air, instead of gulping gallons of the salty ocean. The ocean has spit me out of its angry mouth and I flail in the air until I land on a brown compact patch of sand. I spit out a mouthful of grainy sand as I lay on the beach and peer out through my dripping wet tangled hair. I kneel on all fours and my eyes are wide open because there is a major problem. I am still gasping for breath even though the ocean had released me from its grips.
Father gently but firmly picks up my tired body and I am able to stand and release the tension in my chest. As he places his strong hands on my sagging shoulders, he tells me to relax so that precious air is able to travel into my lungs. I ask him to carry me because as he can see, it is impossible for me to walk. He reaches for me as I grab his hand and I lean on him the entire long walk to our section of the beach covered by colorful towels, a beach umbrella, and a cooler stock full of ice cold water. My body fully surrenders to my father and I do everything he says as I walk slowly over the scorching hot sand and dried seaweed all the while never letting go. My throat feels like the arid Sahara Desert which we are learning about in my Ancient History class in middle school. Teacher says that hardly any plants are able to live there because of the bone-dry earth. The sand beneath my feet are smoldering because it is hot and scratchy. Father sets me down on my towel and wraps another soft one around me for comfort as he brings cool fresh water to my dry lips. I can feel my insides magically healing as the sweet liquid is running down my throat. The sun warms my skin and I feel a smile make its way across my face as I sit there calmly drinking. Feeling returns to my face as the adrenaline wears off and now it hurts like hell. I wipe sweat off my brow and my hand comes away sticky and red. I jump up in surprise and my father leads me to the bathrooms as I try to avoid the glances of passing strangers.
My face is a throbbing red mess as I walk into the sand covered floor of the sanitary beach bathrooms. It stings as I gently run water over the cuts and bruises on my face. I gaze through slats of the window and I see Father leaning against the concrete wall, waiting for me outside. I am excited to walk back to him because I can already taste the sweet ice cream heaven that he promised me for being his brave little girl. I shuffle out of the bathroom, now warm and dry in my change of clothes. I skip along the way as I am excited to finally taste the creamy satisfaction. My father orders my favorite variety of ice cream for me as I rest on a barstool overlooking the beach. My feet are dangling high above the floor but my father said that when I grow up I will be able to touch the floor and order all by myself. The only remnant of the horrible situation that happened before is an ice pack that I am holding against my face as I savor my bubble gum ice cream because my father says that it will keep the swelling to a minimum. I believe that my ice cream treat is just the kind of medicine my body needs because it relaxes my insides. We walk to the end of the pier and I try to lick up the melting ice cream before it drips down the ridged cone and onto my hand. I stand next to my father and my head reaches just below his shoulder. We are both bundled up because the air is getting cooler as the sun is setting over the vast horizon, painting the clouds hues of pinks, oranges and purples. I know that I will always have this moment in time saved in my mind in the file of important memories.
I feel the soothing ocean air flow through my beach hair as I walk to the car with my recovered board slung over one shoulder. I climb into the backseat as I strap myself in for a long ride back to my house. The passing scenes hypnotize me and the gliding motion of the car makes my eyes droop as I fight to keep them open. As I settle in for a nice nap, I recall the day’s events and I know that next time I will have a different story to tell. It will be about the time that I will learn to conquer the mass of blue water as I ride on my board like a throne as effortless as a graceful mermaid. My imagination takes control of me as I sleep because I know that I am safe with Father in the driver’s seat. Then I fall into a deep sleep for what feels like a couple of minutes but we are already pulling into our driveway. I wait patiently because my father will carry me inside so that I will be able to tell the crazy events that unfolded at the beach to the rest of my family. I see my caring family as they run and fling the door wide open. They stand in a line waiting eagerly to greet us and see if I am alright. The ocean has not defeated me because I will be back.
No comments:
Post a Comment