United States of America

I'm a crazy, curly-haired artist. As long as I'm doing something creative, I will sit still. I love books, penguins, steaming cups of tea, and frappucinos, and if I see a dog, I am instantly a hopeless romantic.

Return to the Sea

December 31, 2017

PROMPT: Dual Existence


GROUP: True Stories

For ten years, I had been landlocked. Placed right in the middle of the country where iced tea ran through the veins of the locals and one was more likely to see a cow walking in the middle of the street than a car. Ten years before, I had lived on the very edge of the United States, on an island where decades-old lighthouses stood, weary with time and bleached by the sun and the salt of the sea. The island was in the northeast; palm trees never grew there, nor could you feel a warm breeze in the winter. To put it bluntly, it was cold. You grew tough. It would be fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit and families would be out on the beach having picnics. It was then our family decided to move. We threw our belongings in the back of a Uhaul and drove until the pavement disappeared and the dirt of the roads covered our car. It was then we stopped. In the blistering heat of the Midwest, we settled down. I grew accustomed to the smell of baked earth. My feet grew calloused from summer days running barefoot among pastures. Ten years passed quickly in the mid-country heat. It was on my sixteenth birthday that I was given the chance to return to the great Atlantic. Our family of five packed ourselves into a car during winter break and went east (it must be said that squeezing a sixteen-year-old in the middle of her twenty-year-old brothers in the back of a small Subaru spares little room to move). We drove for hours, stopping for the occasional hamburger and bathroom break.It was winter, so the farther north we travelled, the colder it became. Finally, as the highway passed the coastal city, I saw it: the endless blue of the ocean. After settling into our hotel, we drove down to the beach, bundled in scarves in armed with hot cocoa. I stepped onto the coarse sand and watched as the hardcore surfers battled freezing waves. I was there. I was home.


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