Free Write: Living Among the Waves

          I spent every Summer at the beaches in Yachats, Oregon, or Yach-its as outsiders called it, growing up. Each time I began to see the tall trees scrunching up against the highway, I began to grow anxious for the salty smell of the ocean, the cold water rushing behind my small toes, and the quests for seashells with my grandma. I knew we were growing close when my grandma would say over our caravan walky-talkies, “Can you spot any gnomes? They love to dance in the forest trees as they watch us arrive!”

Not long after the trees appeared, we would round the last corner and the breathtaking ocean views would wash over me. I remember watching the larger-than-normal sun melt into the horizon and ooze over the ocean surface. My grandpa would task me with searching for pirate ships as we made our way toward The Shamrock, the resort where we always stayed and that would become our home for a short time. The Shamrock had a log staircase leading directly down to the Yachat’s beach. When the tide was in, the staircase would be under water, when it was out, it was a 200-yard walk to the waves. The stairs were precarious, and I inevitably heard my cautious mother yell, “slow down!” every time I raced down them, anxious to finally be at the ocean. The same cautious mother continued to linger when I reached my destination, “Don’t turn your back, it’ll getcha and eat ya up before I even know you are gone.” I eventually learned to fear the waves like a monster lurking under my bed waiting for the perfect moment to snatch me away. The waves could tickle my toes, but if they teased to rise above my knees I was done for the day. As I grew older, I eventually learned to ignore the cautious comments and I spent time climbing onto rocks out in the water and reflecting on my teenage-driven emotions for hours.  

Each day on the beach had an itinerary that I set for myself:

1.   My grandma must scour the giant black rocks with me in search of tiny tide pools full of starfish and seashells.

2.   I have to build a sandcastle with my brother.

3.   I have to see how many seagulls I can get to flow in a circle overhead by teasing them with snacks.

4.   My $4.99 Wal-Mart water shoes will be put to good use as I run through the water at the ocean’s edge.

5.   The furry caterpillars, which I had only ever seen at The Shamrock, had to be hunted on the boardwalk.

6.   My grandpa Lee had to take me to The Blue Whale for fish n’ chips at the end of the day.

When we would reach our cabin with full bellies and smiles on our faces, my brother and I would grab our Razor scooters and spend an hour racing down the steep winding hill that ran through the resort. He won every single time! He was heavier, I would tell myself, this pushed him down the hill unfairly.

When we were lucky, the end of the day ended with a campfire on the beach. I can still recall the bolstering flames, the eerie feeling of the ocean sneaking up slowly behind you, the ooey-gooey marshmallows gluing my hands together, and the beaming faces of my family’s faces circling the flames as the looming moon offered us company in the star-filled sky.