The Beach

Gabriella Vilas Boas

I have come to hate the beach,

Which is funny because I used to love it as a kid.

Playing in the sand,

swimming in the ocean,

and laughing with friends.

Going out to the deep end,

then making my dad come after me because I was afraid.

I was so afraid of swimming back alone.

He would take my hand and pull me through the waves,

The humiliation of being the little girl

who was too cowardly to swim back alone.

I remember building castles,

and digging deep holes in the sand.

I tried to fill those holes with water to make my own little pool.

I would dig and dig until my little arms got tired.

Carry buckets,

Only to have the water absorbed by the sand in an instant.

Back and forth,

Yet all efforts seemed futile.

I guess you can’t bring the ocean somewhere else and expect it to adapt.

I hate the ocean.

The sand fading as you climb in deeper,

Surrounded by others smiling,

Because they are taller,

and the shallow end lasts a longer time.

I hate the beach

when I am alone standing at the seashells that border the water

wondering when this stopped being fun.

When did the ocean turn from bright aqua to an alarming sea green?

When did the sand grow rougher?

When did the minuscule creatures in the water become so scary?

I hate the beach, because I do not have the courage to love it like I did before.