Footprints in the Sand

Silence. It engulfed me, wrapped around me like a blanket. Yet, my mind was going a hundred miles an hour. We had come to Florida not for a vacation, yet that’s all I’ve known in Florida in the past. It seemed June of this year was ten years ago. It seemed distant.

My Uncle Noel, sensing my silence, smiled fuzzily. “You know, for the few years after you were born, we’d stay in that condo.” He continued, “You would cry when you had to go to take a nap. Your butt was practically glued to that beach.” I smiled warmly. “Yep. I sure do love Navarre.”

Just about then, we pulled into the parking lot of Navarre Beach. My mom, dad, brother, Aunt Ashley, Uncle Kirk, my Grandma and Grandpa, Aunt Dollie, cousin Landon, and my little cousin India stepped out of the other cars. Blake and Landon were ecstatic as they ripped off their shoes and socks and sprinted to the shore. My family followed with me, trudging closely behind. I decided I finally had nothing to lose and sprinted to the shore. “Look at all these shells!” squealed Landon, hurriedly skipping across the beach, picking up the white, gleaming shells. Blake followed closely behind, trying to catch up.

I rolled up my jeans and let the waves tickle my feet. The salty sea spray blew into my face, filling my mind of ocean. The wind whipped around me, tugging at my hair as I looked out onto the ocean. I heard a bird squeal to my right and saw a seagull walking, like the Egyptian Dance, with its robot-like legs.

“Jordan. Get over here! Look at this!” said my mom, obviously excited. We ran to my mom, feet kicking up sand. “What?” I whispered, breathlessly. In her hands was a shimmering shell, smooth to the touch. It had faint stripes across it. The best part was it wasn’t a piece or half of the shell like normal. It was a whole shell. I took it gently as my mom laid it gently, laid it in my hand. I knew, somehow, my Great-Grandma sent me this shell.

We found twenty-five more whole shells that day, like never before. Blake and Landon, practically singing as they skipped to our car, had a blast. I couldn’t help but mutter a small laugh to myself. As I stood on the beach staring out to the ocean, I felt tears burn in my eyes. I then felt a hand slip into mine. “It’s ok.” My mom muttered, tightly squeezing my hand. With my special shell in hand, my mom and I walked to the cars, both knowing it was our last time to walk on Navarre Beach.





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Seshat said...
Jun. 2, 2012 at 10:07 pm
Very well written!
 
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