My Beach, Our Beach

My Beach, Our Beach

I can see through the cloudy skies and brisk air, memories awaiting me. Just catching a glimpse of those blue waves, and stepping in the cushiony, wet sand I relive years of summers and Christmases on the very same beach. It’s the beach in front of my grandma’s beach house in Puerto Rico. The beautiful beach circles us with palm trees that wave at us to go in the water. When family surrounds people it may cause some worry, but it calms me, knowing I have my people. They are the ones who love, don’t ignore, and grant me my best qualities. Going one Christmas without them troubles me, even if only one family doesn’t come I feel as though we are missing a piece of the puzzle that creates our family. When viewing our beach I can see my family smiling back at me, every piece is there, the palm trees, the sandy waves, the sunny skies, and it all forms one beautiful picture. It's a picture of my past, my future and the overwhelmingly beautiful present. When storms hit, which they have, I fear what may happen, not only to the people and economy, but what’s left at the end of the storm. That is when I see the defeated palms, and the poor, rough waves carrying shattered glass and tears of the people. Beaches relax me, feeling the wind in my hair, sand in my toes, and watching the waves crash over my family playing football and boogie boarding. I could never pass up the opportunity to go to the beach in Puerto Rico with my family, hearing my grandma mix up my cousins names and listening to her chatter in Spanish. Time passes after years of my hair lightening and family tanning, and I don’t realize that everyone is finally grown. College awaits three family members, while one is already there, soon what’ll be left are the smallest of us alone in the house. I know that after everything the beach will still remind me of all that has past, and how we will always remember it.