Waves crash to the ocean floor like fallingrocks. Water retreats only to rush forward as the early morning hazeclears the beach. The sun's first rays hit the water, creating a glare.Each pebble differs from the next; all thrown together, they rock backand forth with the never-ending flow of water. As the foamy water's edgeclears the shore it splashes over an elderly woman's wrinkled toes. Shewalks along the sandy beach, her feet worn from the years. Her grayhair, tied in a loose bun, glistens in the morning sun. This is hermorning routine, a long walk by the seashore to ease into the day. Herspirits are high and she feels more alive than ever when she's by theocean. It has always been her elder and is still as playful as ever. Shepicks up a rock rounded and molded by the hands of the ocean. She feelsas if the beach has created her, too, and made her who she is. Shethinks back to her childhood and remembers walking on the beach,laughing and playing. A smile forms. She thinks, I'm starting a new day.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.