Waves of the Ocean

I wake to the fan blowing in my face; the thickness in the air hangs heavily. The pure, fresh, teal water bobs up and down out my bay window. The buoys in the distance float calm— I glance down at my pale pink cotton shorts and my washed-more-than-once colored tee- shirt. My toes— a fresh coat of O.P.I. California Raspberry reflects the light of my lamp.
I walk around to my white rustic dresser taking a quick glance at my cork bored lined with post-cards, unique seashells lay in glass jars on my night stand. With a sharp tug I pull on the drawer that holds my clothing; it buckles open revealing a sea of many garments. Carefully as I can manage I pick out a lilac ribbed tank top, the collar lined with metallic stones. And my favorite pair of worn-in jean shorts, creased at the bottom, hugging me tight.

Racing into my polka-dotted-array-of-many-pinks bathroom, I pulled my naturally sunned, highlighted-blonde, perfectly tossed hair into a loose braid down the side of my back. My hairline falls gently across my tanned face. I finish in a daze and I take the wooden steps into the cozy, white stained wood loft. I pour myself a bowl of Lucky Charms and step out into the cold morning air. In half of an hour that will be changed.
My favorite part of the morning is seeing the dolphins poke their heads out of the still-glass-like water and submerging themselves back in with a sharp toss. Their rubbery grey-blue skin is like nothing you have ever seen before. Sitting on the end of the dock swinging my feet in and out of the water, making circles spring out around me calms my nerves, the tide washing in and out with my worries, landing in another shoreline, not to be discovered. The way the sand seeps into your bare feet, the seagulls cry and land with a crash on the sandy beach.





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