Wistful Waters
I hunger for the sea.
In my early years, I had never seen the ocean. I have six siblings and the only vacations we took included a string of guest rooms, hide-a-beds, and sleeping bags on the floor, whether in a friend's livingroom or in their basement.
I remember the basement of one of my parents' friends in particular. It was so loud and scary at night. But with seven kids, everything, traveling included was expensive so we usually only vacationed wherever there were friends willing to take in our whole family. I guess my parents' didn't have any friends who lived near the ocean.
But finally, when I turned 15, my dad let me sign up for a retreat with our church youth group. A group of churches were all sending kids to Destin. Not many of the teens I knew signed up, but one guy who irritated me to no end did add his name to the list. Matt. How my heart sank when I learned that he was going. If there were more of us, I would have opted to ride in a different vehicle but there were only a few of us, all in the same van. Matt was a master at making others laugh but he did it by twisting what people said and did. Any little habit or grammar mistake I made was highlighted and exaggerated by Matt, to the laughter of everyone else. Shy, tall and longing not to be noticed, his perhaps good-natured joking really hurt my sensitive feelings. Could I last nearly 600 miles with Matt near by?
I weighed my options but ultimately decided to go. I'd always wanted to see the ocean and I wasn't sure I'd get another chance any time soon.
Matt was annoying but I ignored him as much as possible. I'd brought some books to read so counted chapters instead of hours. Thinking about it now, I should have taken the opportunity to chat with the other people more but I was very shy as a teenager. I've always felt I talk too much once I get going so, that trip, I played it safe. The murmur of the others was a nice soundtrack to my reading, offering me the chance to listen now and then but leaving me with the freedom of not being one to need to carry the conversation.
It was dark by the time we drove to our condos. Our arrival was marked by confusion, the sorting out of rooms and carrying in of luggage.
I put my bag in my room and wondered, "What now?"
In a few moments, one of the leaders came in. "We're going to take a group down to the beach," Mrs. H. said. "Want to join us?"
Did she have to ask? I felt I'd waited all my life to see the ocean. Of course, it was too dark to see it but I could hear it, as my feet sunk into the sand. I slipped off my flip-flops and picked them up, scared to lose them on this star-spattered night.
The sound was glorious. The very air felt alive. I wandered to the edge and dipped my toes into the warm water. The other teens clumped into groups and walked around chatting. I probably should have joined them but I was here, touching the sea, watching the moon shine a path on the water. The waves were in and out and in and out, so rhythmically soothing. The watered whispered. I couldn't understand it but I didn't feel left out, only drawn to listen longer and deeper.
Finally the leaders called that it was time to leave and reluctantly I left my new love.
The next three days were full of learning but the afternoons belonged to the ocean and the sunshine. The other girls wanted to sit and tan. I tried to join them but never could stay away from the water for very long.
The waves accepted me, insistently pulling me in, pulling me farther. They wanted to grab me and I willingly went along, sinking into the encompassing arms of the ocean.
In the ocean, I feel beautiful, supported, hugged and strong. The beach is intimidating, with all those perfect bodies walking by but in the ocean, I can be hidden up to my nose, part of the outside but concealed, surrounded by, watered and embraced by the sea.
I can stand in the waves and watch the gulls caw and argue or watch the kids scamper and play. There's so much happiness near the water. Couples walk hand in hand, other teens shove, show off and laugh.
The ocean continues, in and out and in and out. The water is salty, sometimes stinging your eyes so no one can tell if you're crying. The waves accept your secrets and sweep them out to sea. Nothing is too much for the ocean. The waves always come back for more.
When the weekend was up, I reluctantly climbed back in the van, sun-burned and sandy. Another six hundred miles of Matt didn't seem near as sad as the fact that I was leaving the ocean behind.
I've never felt rooted, attached to a hometown or a city but something draws me to the ocean. Now, I still live many hours away from the sea. I haven't even touched the ocean in almost two years now. I'm not sure when I'll get to go back.
But I've never fallen in love so easily or loved something so long. Though years pass, every time I return to the ocean, it always grabs me back, embracing me again without anger at my absence.
Each time as I journey back I think, "Oh, it was just a summer. It was just being young. It will be fun but hey, I can have fun anywhere." But when I see it, hear the crash and roar, the sizzle of the surf ... there's nothing like the ocean for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(And many, many thanks to LJ User xo_kizzy_xo who graciously gave me the idea of using a place for the prompt. Writing this brought back wonderful memories.)
In my early years, I had never seen the ocean. I have six siblings and the only vacations we took included a string of guest rooms, hide-a-beds, and sleeping bags on the floor, whether in a friend's livingroom or in their basement.
I remember the basement of one of my parents' friends in particular. It was so loud and scary at night. But with seven kids, everything, traveling included was expensive so we usually only vacationed wherever there were friends willing to take in our whole family. I guess my parents' didn't have any friends who lived near the ocean.
But finally, when I turned 15, my dad let me sign up for a retreat with our church youth group. A group of churches were all sending kids to Destin. Not many of the teens I knew signed up, but one guy who irritated me to no end did add his name to the list. Matt. How my heart sank when I learned that he was going. If there were more of us, I would have opted to ride in a different vehicle but there were only a few of us, all in the same van. Matt was a master at making others laugh but he did it by twisting what people said and did. Any little habit or grammar mistake I made was highlighted and exaggerated by Matt, to the laughter of everyone else. Shy, tall and longing not to be noticed, his perhaps good-natured joking really hurt my sensitive feelings. Could I last nearly 600 miles with Matt near by?
I weighed my options but ultimately decided to go. I'd always wanted to see the ocean and I wasn't sure I'd get another chance any time soon.
Matt was annoying but I ignored him as much as possible. I'd brought some books to read so counted chapters instead of hours. Thinking about it now, I should have taken the opportunity to chat with the other people more but I was very shy as a teenager. I've always felt I talk too much once I get going so, that trip, I played it safe. The murmur of the others was a nice soundtrack to my reading, offering me the chance to listen now and then but leaving me with the freedom of not being one to need to carry the conversation.
It was dark by the time we drove to our condos. Our arrival was marked by confusion, the sorting out of rooms and carrying in of luggage.
I put my bag in my room and wondered, "What now?"
In a few moments, one of the leaders came in. "We're going to take a group down to the beach," Mrs. H. said. "Want to join us?"
Did she have to ask? I felt I'd waited all my life to see the ocean. Of course, it was too dark to see it but I could hear it, as my feet sunk into the sand. I slipped off my flip-flops and picked them up, scared to lose them on this star-spattered night.
The sound was glorious. The very air felt alive. I wandered to the edge and dipped my toes into the warm water. The other teens clumped into groups and walked around chatting. I probably should have joined them but I was here, touching the sea, watching the moon shine a path on the water. The waves were in and out and in and out, so rhythmically soothing. The watered whispered. I couldn't understand it but I didn't feel left out, only drawn to listen longer and deeper.
Finally the leaders called that it was time to leave and reluctantly I left my new love.
The next three days were full of learning but the afternoons belonged to the ocean and the sunshine. The other girls wanted to sit and tan. I tried to join them but never could stay away from the water for very long.
The waves accepted me, insistently pulling me in, pulling me farther. They wanted to grab me and I willingly went along, sinking into the encompassing arms of the ocean.
In the ocean, I feel beautiful, supported, hugged and strong. The beach is intimidating, with all those perfect bodies walking by but in the ocean, I can be hidden up to my nose, part of the outside but concealed, surrounded by, watered and embraced by the sea.
I can stand in the waves and watch the gulls caw and argue or watch the kids scamper and play. There's so much happiness near the water. Couples walk hand in hand, other teens shove, show off and laugh.
The ocean continues, in and out and in and out. The water is salty, sometimes stinging your eyes so no one can tell if you're crying. The waves accept your secrets and sweep them out to sea. Nothing is too much for the ocean. The waves always come back for more.
When the weekend was up, I reluctantly climbed back in the van, sun-burned and sandy. Another six hundred miles of Matt didn't seem near as sad as the fact that I was leaving the ocean behind.
I've never felt rooted, attached to a hometown or a city but something draws me to the ocean. Now, I still live many hours away from the sea. I haven't even touched the ocean in almost two years now. I'm not sure when I'll get to go back.
But I've never fallen in love so easily or loved something so long. Though years pass, every time I return to the ocean, it always grabs me back, embracing me again without anger at my absence.
Each time as I journey back I think, "Oh, it was just a summer. It was just being young. It will be fun but hey, I can have fun anywhere." But when I see it, hear the crash and roar, the sizzle of the surf ... there's nothing like the ocean for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(And many, many thanks to LJ User xo_kizzy_xo who graciously gave me the idea of using a place for the prompt. Writing this brought back wonderful memories.)