A Journey Down Memory Lane

Let's give it a crack and see what I can do...

The sand was sizzling hot, sky barren of clouds, the beach littered with tourists, gulls cackling as they rummaged through the garbage cans. It was a typical day on the Jersey shore. My mother lay next to me, on her towel, face down, soaking in the rays of the sun, adding to her already rich tan. She had on a white floral design one-piece bathing suit that she had ordered from L.L.Bean during late spring. Complaining that I was hot, I really just wanted to go out to the sand bar where a huge mass of people were surfing and frolicking in the waves, escaping the sun’s wrath. It was just the two of us. A typical outing when I was younger. My mother loves the beach and her body exudes that love. Her hair lightens during the months with no R’s, her glasses disappear to only be replaced by sunglasses, her kisses smell of tropical lip balm. Tilting her head up from her arms, she gave me a quick smile and a cheery, “Ok!” Wading out into the water, I immediately was nervous. The sand bar seemed at the time extremely far off and I knew I had not yet perfected the art of swimming. I was a proficient swimmer for my age of six, but I could not battle the waves and currents of the vast ocean. As the salt water tickled my noise, I quickly lost touch of the sandy bottom and instantly clutched onto my mother, who scooped me onto her arm with a smile and a short giggle. Her hair, much longer then, was smoothed against her shoulders and she had a look of determination on her face and she trotted on towards the sand bar. Both of us miscalculated that day. Usually one can walk out to the sandbar. That day, the channel between the breaking waves and the sand bar was well over both our heads, leaving my mother to resort to swimming with a six year old attached to her hip. This was not a good combination. It was not long before my mother was out of breath and we began to slowly submerge. My mother’s face was a pasty white, eyes wide with fear.

“Hey baby, I don’t think we’re going to make it out there today…”

I did not understand what she was implying, but I could see the fear in her eyes and I knew the feeling as I was in the same situation. Water began lapping our faces and we both were struggling to keep out heads above the water. We were no more than ten feet away from the beginning of the sand bar.

           “I’m sorry baby…” my mother choked out as she began to scream for help.

A man immediately jumped off the sand bar and grabbed me as my mother advised him to do. Her child was more important. Within what felt like seconds, a lifeguard had swam out the couple hundred feet and was assisting my mother to the sand bar. I was shaking, finally understanding the severity of what just happened. At the moment I detached from my mother to go into the arms of the stranger, I felt like I was being abandoned, but to this day, I cannot appreciate and respect my mother anymore for risking her well-being for my own.