Little Cove Beach, ON

When I was young at the beach, I felt the waves crash against the harsh, rough, and shiny rocks. I remember feeling the cool, icy blue, frozen water roll down my back whenever I stood up. I felt the rigid grains of sand against my fingertips whenever I built a sand castle, and whenever it came crashing down. I could feel the smooth, slimy, green sea kelp as it became intertwined around my fingers. I would swiftly untangle them as I swam, so they could sway with the movement of the sea.

When I was young at the beach, I could hear my brother produce an enormous, messy, and chaotic splash onto the water’s surface, with some of his friends following along behind him. I could always overhear the interesting, confusing, yet intriguing chatter of all the strangers around me, their own stories unfolding. The squawking from the seagulls would constantly echo in the back of my head, never leaving until I departed. I would take in the sounds of excitement from the children around me whenever they saw a giant wave approach, happily waiting to jump in.

When I was young at the beach, I consistently felt excited whenever I spotted the different rocks and feathers, in all varying shapes, sizes, and colours, all of them scattered along the shoreline. I was always curious whenever I detected the aroma of baked goods from the visitors nearby, the breads, the biscuits, the fruits, and more. I would always feel adventurous whenever I could sense the lingering sea salt carried through the breeze, the taste of a new adventure on the tip of my tongue every time I advanced towards the beach.

At the beach, I always remember my disappointment when I had to leave. I never wanted to leave the make believe stories of my grand adventure behind, upset that I couldn’t continue my own miniature, imaginary, and personal journey until we returned the following year. Unfortunately, as I grew older, my stories came to an eventual halt, where I could no longer taste the sea salt anymore, and where the memories of the ocean faded away, even though, I’m sure, the waves continue to create new tales for others that follow.