If I stop and think for a minute, unfocus my eyes, I can practically see the beach now. A wide staircase, with shallow steps. The concrete is rough on your feet, but slowly more and more sand gathers on each step - until you can’t see the stairs anymore. The sand is fine and soft, piled up so you sink into it as you walk. Under the California sun, and the empty sky, it’s hot to the touch. I get a little protection with my sandals, but sand leaks through easily, and soon I’m running to the sea to feel the tide run over my feet.

Impatiently rocking back and forth as my mom slathers sunscreen on my face and arms; the shade of an umbrella provides some relief, but it’s nothing compared to the cold and clear water. Once the last of the lotion, creamy, and slightly cool against my skin, is rubbed in, I make a run for the beach. I can’t even contain my excitement.

The endless bright, hot sand begins to give way to more and more seaweed. Piles of wrinkled green gather; I avoid them with my life, shuddering at the memory of something slimy and squishy under my toes. And finally I reach that line - where the waves come up on the shore. The sand is a darker tone, you might know it well - like brown sugar, smooth and packed together in one flat surface. The coolness of it feels practically mocking - a taste of the ocean, without any real relief from the heat of the sun. And then the tide comes in, and a wave fizzes out onto the shore.

It’s refreshing, to my feet, and then my legs, and then my torso and arms and neck as I walk further into the water. It really is cool - it takes a minute to get used to, but it’s relaxing and calming and it makes me want to let go, to drift down where the sailboats are miniscule on the horizon, without a care of where I’m going. Or maybe not - maybe I just want to be right here, where the sun is bright and the water is sparkling in the sun and my brothers are laughing down by the pier. The reflectiveness of the water is almost magical - all sorts of greens and blues in its hue, bright spots of light like a gemstone. And the waves crash down again, over and over, and I feel a little scared each time that I’ll be pulled down below into the current, unable to break the surface of the water.

Aside from the typical sandy shore and rhythm of water, the beach really does make quite a view. A long and wide wooden pier makes for its centerpiece, branching out from the city, held up with poles that reach deep into the sand. A long row of houses sits along the edge of the pier facing the main beach - they’re little cottages, with only a few rooms and a small back area to look at the view. They’re all connected, too; I can run down and visit my cousins, or my grandparents, like we’re all living in the same little paradise neighborhood. I remember sitting in a lawn chair, all my cousins and siblings around me, as my uncle cooked real crab for us, which we were all eager to try.

Crabs - the wildlife of Crystal Pier is part of why I like it. You’d have to be really far out to see any fish, but little hermit crabs (or whatever they are, anyways) are plentiful at the shore, and one of my favorite pastimes is catching them. When the wave pulls back from the sand, exposing the damp sand below, you can see these little v’s being made, forming and then disappearing into the ground. Dig your hands in fast enough and you’ll be holding a little wriggling sand crab, desperately, and humorously, trying to escape from your grasp. I’ll gather them in buckets with my cousins - we try and see who can find the largest, the smallest, the most; and while I feel a little bad about disturbing their peace, the act is harmless. We return them all to the ocean soon enough.

The other crabs, the kind that you could actually get meat from, live under the pier - where the burning sun can’t reach. It’s like a tunnel, isolated from the rest of the beach; the roaring echoes of the waves crashing in. I can barely hear other voices, the water is so loud - and it’s tempting to keep walking farther and farther, following the poles into the deep. Larger, and not so harmless crabs are found clinging to those poles. They aren’t the prettiest, with rough claws and beady eyes, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Only the adults are allowed to catch them - but it’s always exhilarating to watch.

At night, when the fun has been had, we all take showers and collapse into bed, still smelling of salt and slightly sunburnt. My throat burns from accidentally swallowing ocean water, but I barely think of that now as I pull my blanket tighter around me. Somewhere - it sounds almost far away - the lull of the ocean still calls. Wave after wave, building up and then crashing down, only to retreat once more. It’s a smooth, clean cycle - like a heartbeat, calming and truly peaceful. My breath goes in and out. The waves go in and out. In, and out, in, and out- and it’s so rhythmic I begin to finally pass out. Tired eyes flutter closed, without protest, and aside from my breathing my body is completely still. No lullaby is quite as strong as Mother Nature herself rocking me to sleep; with a soft hum, in the pale blue moonlight. And the memory of this beach is enough to keep me going forever - as long as it comes with the promise of returning someday.