The beach is a very special place to me, not because of the very attractive surfer boys, but because somewhere between the endless waves and the million grains of sand it holds a lot of memories for me while growing up and continues to. 

I remember as a very little girl every summer my family and I would travel down to Camp Pendleton, a Marine Corps base on Del Mar Beach. My cousins and I, even though they are years older than me, would be in the sand as soon as we would get there. In the car we would be so impatient, waiting for our little toes to be buried in the sand.  I’m pretty sure our moms were tired of listening to us in the car. I remember how our moms would force us to either sit in the motorhomes or go somewhere else when we would first get there because we would always bug to go down to the water and would always get in the way of everyone. But as soon as everyone was settled in we head straight for the water. My closest cousin from that side of the family, and closest in age, would always be in the front literally sprinting with our hands full of boogie boards, towels, and shovels. As soon as we would find our spot to lay our towels out, my cousin and I would sprint to the water, only to be chased down by our moms because we forgot to “soak” in sunscreen. We dreaded this part, but who didn’t.  After our “fun” time with sunscreen we would literally be that weird purple, white color. But we didn’t care we knew that as soon as we were done we could be in the water. I remember that sensational feeling of the cold ocean water hitting my feet and soon going past my chest. Ducking and going over each wave that passed us. We would soon get our boogie boards to go deeper to get better waves. Nothing is better than that feeling when you ride a wave. You feel free and part of the ocean and it’s an amazing feeling. I remember that sad feeling of when we had to go back to the motorhome and spend the rest of the night by the camp site. When the sun would set it was a bad sign for us. That time meant we had to go to the miserable cold showers. Those showers were the most terrifying things. There were only four total showers and the only thing separating the privacy of ourselves and the outside world was a very thin white shower curtain and they didn’t even close all the way.  I couldn’t wait to get out of those dreadful things and go back to camp. Back at camp we would have a big fire with s’mores and we would all sit together in sweats and big jackets. One thing that I don’t miss is as a little kid you would always have to go in earlier than everyone else. And that wasn’t fun especially when you are in bed trying to fall asleep and everyone laughs and you want to be out there having fun too. But now going to the beach as a teenager, I still get those feelings and each time I remember more and more things that I did as a kid.  But going to the beach with my family and cousins while we are older is just as fun. We still can’t wait to put our, now bigger, toes in the sand and feel the waves rush past us. We can stay up just as late as the grownups and we laugh at the jokes that we understand now that we are older. We can go to the beach whenever we want and stay as long as we want. We can have marshmallow fights around the campfire and laugh until there are tears streaming down our face and our stomachs are killing us.             

These are the memories that I cherish the most, these fun times and fun adventures let me forget about the world back home. I hope that as we get older we continue to make more memories and that my little brother has the similar amazing experiences that I had.