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The Little Coast
I remember the boat we took
To get to the tiny, secluded coast
And how the waves made my mother feel sick
And how the tropical wind rattled through my hair;
Our voices drowned by the motor's radiating song.
And I remember the creatures:
The feathered, the furry, the scaly,
And how at peace they were
With one another
Despite their differences.
I remember horseback riding
Through narrow trails with steep steep drops.
I remember a slipping hoof, my tightened grip
Then the rocks and dirt tumbling off the side
And falling for miles and miles.
I remember my sigh of relief,
And the sweat coating every inch of the sturdy giant
From the scorching Mexican sun.
I remember the waterfall
And how it spilled with a roar into the shallow pool beneath it
Where I pretended to be a diver, and a dolphin, a mermaid.
I remember I picked up the tiny chunks of fools gold
Scattered in the sand at the bottom
And pretending I was a royal queen
I remember my dream of being a veterinarian becoming an almost-reality
And I remember feeling very old at just nine,
And very mature
As I watched-
Without wincing,
The gory procedures on the somewhat sterile operating table,
To save the stray four-leggeds
Who never failed to wag their tails and kiss the faces of strangers
I remember fishing
And the regret filled me when I realized the horror of what we had done.
I watched the gilled beings flop and bleed on the boat’s plastic-like, white floor,
Knowing they were terrified.
I remember knowing they didn’t deserve
The razor that slit their gills
And the panic from drowning in air.
And I remember crying.
I remember lying on the doc with my father one night
And being taught where the stars
Formed the most beautiful constellations in the sky.
And I remember feeling safe and listening to my father’s low, deep voice:
“Take an arc to Arcturus, and a spike to Spica,” he said,
Pointing his finger in the direction of the pattern.
I remember lying there for a long while watching
The stars shoot like bullets across the clear, black sky
I remember thinking each one looked like magic fairy dust,
That had burst into flames,
And blessed this faraway, pint-sized place a paradise.
I remember praying that the wish I made each time I saw one
Would come true
And it has.
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A trip my family and I took when I was 9 to a little Mexican coast called Yelapa.