My Seashell

Alexis - New Orleans, Louisiana
Entered on January 29, 2009
Age Group: Under 18
Themes: setbacks
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My Seashell

I believe that there is something about the beach that washes the pain away. The tide rushes up to swallow it flushing out the emotional scar, leaving behind seashells. I believe there is something about the ocean that eases the ache in our body and gives us a clean slate.

A year and a half ago I lost my best friend, Jason. My heart was broken along with what felt like everything else in my body, and for the fallowing months countless friends gave me the pity looks or hangout invitations. I turned all of them down, except for the trip some friends and I had planned before Jason died. I worked all winter for my trip money, so I went because I didn’t want to lose money because that was the only tangible value I still had.

I spent the first days locked in my room with the turquoise chiffon curtains closed, and the lights off, listening to my Nano’s never-ending playlist. I thought that if I slept for a few days, I’d wake up and it would’ve all been a dream. Most of the girls knew better than to knock, and the ones who didn’t were immediately informed by the ones who did. When I look back, I can’t help but see how pathetic I was.

It was the second to last day of the trip, and I figured it would be my last chance to get some sun because tomorrow was check-out day. I was nervous walking down to the beach. This was the first time I felt nervous about anything in a while. I wasn’t angry or sad. Just nervous. Maybe the girls would finally react to how hostile I had been, or that I wouldn’t be able to find them once I got to the beach, but I was mostly nervous that I would break down into tears where all of Destin, FL could see.

I stepped out of the lobby’s mosaic fish covered walls and onto the beach. The sun began to defrost my fingers and toes. The breeze was cool and salty, and when the wind blew just right I could feel the stinging sand exfoliate my cheek, and at that moment, I wished Jason was there. Not because of my own selfish need to have my hand held and to be told that everything was going to get better, but to see that I was okay. I had made it to the beach and even the shore all by myself, and I was proud.

I believe that the water did clean my slate. I believe that it washed over my pain and left me with exactly what I needed. I believe the sun dried up my tears, and I believe in Jason. He is my seashell that, my gift from the ocean.