The grains of sand latch themselves to my skin, unwilling to release me from their influence, their nagging persuading me to reflect on the events of the day. The scent of Banana Boat Sunscreen drifts through my mind, accompanying a desire for the lime Otter Pops I had gorged upon while sitting on the beach. Memory of the gleeful screams and laughs shared running amongst the rays of sun lulls me into the contentment of the hours past.
However, this ode to the bygone sounds of the beach proves only a distraction as it is overtaken with the dissonance of the present, the excited exclamations being replaced by the continuation of angry accusations, accusations hurled in the other room from one parent to the other.
The uncomfortable surface
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However, it was appropriate this event proved a kind of sand in itself, refusing to let go of us no matter the distance from which it originated, constantly forcing the acknowledgement of its unfortunate placement in our lives. This fighting was almost normal, routine even, in our household. The only difference in this circumstance was the location now, my place alone in this hotel living room instead of alone in my bedroom at …show more content…
The wetness of my hair, soaked from an attempt to rid it of the salt and grime of the ocean, echoed the feeling of water against the face’s soft skin experienced at the certain first drops of tears from her eyes.
And with her loss of composure, my mother broke from the script, set about a new plot and broke the fourth wall, acknowledging me, the unseen audience to their heated discussion, as she walked out of the room. The recognition of my lack of naivety was apparent as her tear-filled eyes locked with mine, eyes that she surely expected to be closed with the fortunate ignorance of childhood, and in that moment, I ceased to be inactive.
For before this, I had sat in the theater, no way to join the characters I followed, no way to show I had known their struggles, no way to play my own role in the scene. Now, I was thrust into the midst of the chaotic sea, dropped a few feet away from a sort of raft which I could cling to- my mother’s. For as I realized then, she had been battling as much as I had, struggling to keep her head above water in the terrible storm that had been raging through her
The smell of the restaurants faded and the new, refreshing aroma of the sea salt in the air took over. The sun’s warmth on my skin and the constant breeze was a familiar feeling that I loved every single time we came to the beach. I remember the first time we came to the beach. I was only nine years old. The white sand amazed me because it looked like a wavy blanket of snow, but was misleading because it was scorching hot. The water shone green like an emerald, it was content. By this I mean that the waves were weak enough to stand through as they rushed over me. There was no sense of fear of being drug out to sea like a shipwrecked sailor. Knowing all this now I knew exactly how to approach the beach. Wear my sandals as long as I could and lay spread out my towel without hesitation. Then I’d jump in the water to coat myself in a moist protective layer before returning to my now slightly less hot towel. In the water it was a completely different world. While trying to avoid the occasional passing jellyfish, it was an experience of
As my family and I sped along the coast, the sour smell of sulfur vents and sea salt pungently gusted through my nostrils. My clothes were damp from the constant spray of seawater. My sense of balance was overcome by the sequential hop from wave to wave and – combined with the
...as hurriedly approaching my toes. I clinched my toes deeper in the sand to prepare myself to get annihilated by the wave’s white water. But, of course, it was just the familiar feeling of the cool rush between my feet as they sunk deeper into the sand. Scanning the water vigorously, I tippy toed my way out into bottomless ocean. Remembering the feeling of the tingle and than burn, I peered back to see my beach chair waiting for me in the scorching sun. While I contemplated turning around and heading back to my safe place. I continued on. I continued to walk forward. I did not stop once the water passed my waist. I would not let the phobia of jellyfish hold me back from the once place I loved the most. As the water washed over the tips of my hair, warm memories of my past fled into my mind. I let my once again peach colored toes disappear deeper into the blue water.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
There we saw people ranging from six months to sixty years old splashing around in the water, sinking their toes in the ripples and laughing in the peak of the day’s heat. I saw the potential that this two-avenue-long pool had in becoming a person’s beach for a glimpse of time. Smith’s concept of one’s beach always being in immediate reach resulted in Michelle and I taking off our shoes, sitting on a bench and enjoying the 88°F weather with our toes immersed in 70°F water. During these ten minutes where I sat on the bench, conversed with my friend and watched people play and walk through the park, I had found a beach for
Do you ever disagree with your parents? Well if the If the answer is yes, you’re not alone. In the two short stories, “Confetti Girl” and “Tortilla Sun” both the narrators both disagree with their parents. Because of these disagreements in point of view, they both feel that they’re neglected, and feel that they don’t have a say. While the parents do one thing, and the children believe another, tension is created through these differences between the two stories.The differences that the narrators have with their parents create tension because one child feels that they’re neglected, and the other child feels that their parent is being selfish.
They discover the beach, and it is as beautiful and idyllic as it is reputed to be. Yet over time it becomes clear that beach culture, as Richard calls it, has troubling, even deadly, undercurrents. Spellbinding and hallucinogenic, The Beach is a look at a generation in their twenties, who, burdened with the legacy of the preceding generation and saturated by popular culture, long for an unruined landscape, but find it difficult to experience the world firsthand.
Summarise the key objectives and components of the new program named Youth Jobs PaTH announced in the Federal Budget 2016-2017. The Youth Jobs PaTH Program intends to give young job seekers under the age of 25 the basic employability skills and real work experience in order to maximise their job prospects. The program is comprised of three stages: Prepare, Trial and Hire (Employment.gov.au). In the first three weeks of the program, young people will undergo Employability Skills Training (EST), also known as the ‘Prepare’ stage.
Beneath my feet, the toasty sand of golden colour shimmered sparkly as white seagulls floated elegantly above. The warm air was tied with a salty aroma that lingered indefinitely while breezes chased each other over the water and sand like a puppy chasing its tail. A clamour of happiness mixed with excitement between friends and family was all around. A wave crashed against the shore like a storm and my surroundings morphed into the beach on the island.
Walking on a land of gold, the sand being so soft and smooth, glistens as it reflects the suns rays with joy. Cool, light and refreshing, the breeze gently eases up against my skin and glides through my hair, sending a gentle shiver up my spine. The rustling of leaves, small array of birds and delicate splashes of the sea are amazingly soothing and relaxing. The whole beach itself looks like a painted picture with a spectrum of colours all merged with one another. The sea also showing off a wide range of colours that reflects of the surface, like a dancing peacock showing off its finely detailed feathers.
The dull light of the sun somehow manages to kindle my senses in a way I had never seen or felt before. Everything felt like it came to a standstill and the effect of the light made the scene look like one in a painting. The waves break gently into white foam on the black beach. The small crystals in the sand glimmer and twinkle brilliantly against the sunrays. The seagulls ride with the wind and the soft sand cushions my toes.
I had decided to be open minded about this adventure I was being taken on as my weariness depreciated and my mother seemed to grow upset since I had looked like I was not enjoying her company. As we approached the seashore, to my surprise my mood had been uplifted. Smiling was inevitable and my heart was warm with bliss as we slowly walked over the tiny grains of sand, occasionally stopping to examine a unique shell that demanded to be seen. Each shell had different textures, varying from a roughness comparable to sandpaper or smooth like fuzzy peaches and with different shades of grey and white. Only the extraordinary shells would be picked up and placed into the bright red cup we brought.
The gleaming rays of yellow sun peered through the thick grey clouds, the sand was still dampened with moisture. A soft breeze blew through the thick dunes, lifting up small clumps of sand as it gently caressed the moist land. I could feel the thick moisture in the humid summers air, sitting beneath my umbrella as small parcels of sweat began to stream down my face. Harrison stood up and saidwith excitment “hey wanna go for a swim”. My face lit up with joy and without hesitation I accepted his offer.
As I walked down the worn dirt path to the ocean, I was astonished by how many people were lounging by the water.. As I got closer to the water’s edge, I contemplated why more people don 't swim and decide to tan in the sun instead. The feeling of being alone with the ocean and my thoughts played in my mind.
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every