“Shut up, hippie.”
I believe the ocean is soothing to the soul. Salt water can cure any wound, physically or mentally. I believe the wind that blows your hair into huge knots and flicks sand in your face is nature’s humorous way of communication. Ever since I was little my mom would always take my brother and I to the beach. We’d stand through the dreadful ritual of Mom putting sunscreen on us and then quickly run down to the shore. I would giggle and scream when the waves would crash onto me. I’m the type of girl that says “Screw sunscreen,” and dives right into the big blue marine bath. Oh how I stayed out there for hours, letting the waves take me left and right, drifting far away from my mom’s floral beach chair on land. I’d smile to the sun and let it sink into me as my curls floated around my water-draped face. My hands were like raisins afterwards, and stung to move. Salt does that, but it’s a good sting. I often played with the little sand fleas that swam away from me and burrowed their grotesque bodies into the wet sand. I was like Forrest Gump catching shrimp, and I still am to this day! When their colony finally got tired of my chunky coconut self and relocated, I accommodated to riding a boogie board. I thought I was cool because, well, it’s the next best thing to being an actual surfer. I sat and waited for waves until finally I thought I saw Shamoo slap his tail because a huge wave came into sight. I started paddling forward and SWWWOOOOSSSSHHHHH. I took off sailing. The exhilaration that raced through was as if I was flying.
Get back up. Paddle. Repeat.
This aquatic routine ingrained a sense of accomplishment, as if I was 80 years old living my life over and over again. I started out working hard, made it, and then reaped the benefits.

I am now 17 years old and I still view the beach atmosphere the same. Sometimes I sit in my car and listen to the waves and smell black-eyed susans swaying in the grass breeze. As I sit there I clear my mind and tell God about how Earth is from my standpoint right now and he listens. He reacts through the next whirl of sand that dances in front of me. You see, there’s a deeper meaning in the mysteries of the sea. The ocean has a heart of its own, raging and staying as still as glass as it pleases. We were given this beautiful gift to find the gapes and fills inside ourselves. People may say that the sticky sand, dried hair, and lobster-red sunburns aren’t worth the trip, but I say, isn’t life messy anyway?