Personal Narrative: The Drive To The Beach
My current boyfriend Toby and I were doing the “meet the parents” trip. His parents lived close to the ocean. I was ecstatic. About the ocean, not meeting the parents.
The drive to the beach seemed interminable. Finding parking was another hassle. The stress of the journey was overshadowing the destination.
But once on the beach I was hooked. I joined the pattern of so many before me. I bent and picked up a shell. With that first shell in hand I had begun my quest to find treasure. At home they are just clutter to be moved from place to place. But on the sparkling sand, they have infinite value.
I was completely lost in the wonderment of the sea. No cares, no worries. The epitome of every ocean dream. I was immersed in the moment.
A few breaths …show more content…
later I realized I was alone by the tumbling waves. Toby and his family had all scuttled away on some unknown mission.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that Toby looked like he was gathering shells. I caught up to him. “So, everybody’s finding shells?” I inquired.
Toby looked dismissively toward my handful of treasures. “Not that kind” he sneered.
The shells looked good to me. Each had beckoned to me from the sand. I could see that they might not be perfect, but his response confused me.
“Look at these beauties.” He bragged and held out a tiny silver-grey shard that looked to be about the size of a clipped fingernail. “These are shark’s teeth” he said.
Being new to the beach, my immediate verbal response was “cool.” But then my natural credulity and the reality of their appearance kicked in.
“Those aren’t real shark’s teeth.” I stated fully expecting him to agree.
To my dismay he believed his cup of booty to be sharks teeth. “Sure they are” he replied.
“They are too small for one thing. Plus, you have an entire cupful. Why would so many sharks be losing their teeth?” I asked trying to point out obvious issues.
My logic had apparently no impact and he moved down the beach. Eager to share the moment I said, “So you all compete?”
“Yes, but you don’t stand a chance. I’ve already picked up 37” he said.
Always up to a challenge I joined the competition. But, the more I looked the less the day sparkled. My neck ached from looking down. I realized I was missing the ocean, just looking at the sand. I paused in my frantic pursuit and looked at my scattered companions. Everyone had their head down, moving with laser-like intensity.
I looked at my paltry handful of “shark’s teeth.” Each one was small and grey, more like a broken pencil lead than anything of value.
The big flat shells seemed to twinkle back at me. They all seemed to say, “Pick me. Please pick me.”
I could no longer resist their lure. I reached for the bumpy one with the purple
edge.
The drive to the beach seemed interminable. Finding parking was another hassle. The stress of the journey was overshadowing the destination.
But once on the beach I was hooked. I joined the pattern of so many before me. I bent and picked up a shell. With that first shell in hand I had begun my quest to find treasure. At home they are just clutter to be moved from place to place. But on the sparkling sand, they have infinite value.
I was completely lost in the wonderment of the sea. No cares, no worries. The epitome of every ocean dream. I was immersed in the moment.
A few breaths …show more content…
later I realized I was alone by the tumbling waves. Toby and his family had all scuttled away on some unknown mission.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that Toby looked like he was gathering shells. I caught up to him. “So, everybody’s finding shells?” I inquired.
Toby looked dismissively toward my handful of treasures. “Not that kind” he sneered.
The shells looked good to me. Each had beckoned to me from the sand. I could see that they might not be perfect, but his response confused me.
“Look at these beauties.” He bragged and held out a tiny silver-grey shard that looked to be about the size of a clipped fingernail. “These are shark’s teeth” he said.
Being new to the beach, my immediate verbal response was “cool.” But then my natural credulity and the reality of their appearance kicked in.
“Those aren’t real shark’s teeth.” I stated fully expecting him to agree.
To my dismay he believed his cup of booty to be sharks teeth. “Sure they are” he replied.
“They are too small for one thing. Plus, you have an entire cupful. Why would so many sharks be losing their teeth?” I asked trying to point out obvious issues.
My logic had apparently no impact and he moved down the beach. Eager to share the moment I said, “So you all compete?”
“Yes, but you don’t stand a chance. I’ve already picked up 37” he said.
Always up to a challenge I joined the competition. But, the more I looked the less the day sparkled. My neck ached from looking down. I realized I was missing the ocean, just looking at the sand. I paused in my frantic pursuit and looked at my scattered companions. Everyone had their head down, moving with laser-like intensity.
I looked at my paltry handful of “shark’s teeth.” Each one was small and grey, more like a broken pencil lead than anything of value.
The big flat shells seemed to twinkle back at me. They all seemed to say, “Pick me. Please pick me.”
I could no longer resist their lure. I reached for the bumpy one with the purple
edge.