The Beginning

I have lived in Alaska all my life. I was born in Soldotna, and after very few months, my mother would take me to the beach. She had this hobby of walking the seashore, looking for special rocks, or shells. She would find her way to the beach at least once a week, and when she arrived there, she would stay for hours. She loved the feeling of freedom and joyfulness whenever she stepped foot on the sand, and she loved the feeling of the outdoors. Whenever she took me with her, people would see her, in her pulled-up leggings, XtraTuf boots, and light jacket. A bucket filled with brightly colored rocks, shells, and sea glass was balanced in the tuck of her arm while carrying a newborn baby. In all the pictures I've seen, the sun was shining, the wind was light, and the waves sparkled in the rays of the sun. I soon learned that I inherited that love of the sea, and there was no stopping the wanting to go to the beach. That wanting became a call. Probably a special call that only those who truly love the beach and enjoy its gifts can hear. I truly know I inherited that wanting, and love because all of my good memories of my mom happened on the beach. Mother and daughter, together, answering the call of the sea.

The Change

A year later, my brother was born, and he became my second companion to explore the beach with. And as we became a few years older, we would still visit the beach with our mom. We would walk the beaches, hand in hand, and look for treasures. She would help us build sandcastles and help us make forts. We all would walk to the edge of the water and splash our feet in the cold waves. The water just gave me this feeling that everything would be okay, and that it would always be there. I would watch the waves keep rolling onto the sand of the beach, never stopping. It would keep rolling and rolling, no matter what. It never stopped, never gave up. This taught me a very important lesson that I truly wouldn't learn until later.  After some more time passed and drastic changes arose. My brother and I were moved to all sorts of places. We would be bounced from living with our Mom at our grandfather's house, living in campers with Mom and her boyfriends, or even living with my grandmother. Where we would sleep the next night was unpredictable. I couldn't go to the beach at that time; couldn't get my worries out by walking on that familiar ground. My life became miserable, and there was nothing I could do but watch all the calamity around me. Soon, my brother and I moved to Kasilof with my grandmother. My grandmother had full guardianship of us, and we were safe from all the bad things that had happened in our lives. We were living in the quiet and beautiful town of Kasilof. Our house was built on top of a bluff, only 15 feet above the beach. Once again, I was reunited with the sea. I could finally answer that call in my heart.

The Sea is Calling

Almost every day, the sun shone, and the hot air soaked into my skin. My brother and I both needed something to do outside; we weren't allowed inside for most of the day. We soon constructed a trail down to the beach, a very steep trail alongside the bluff. After climbing down, we were free to roam the beach. The hot sand stuck between our toes, the sharp rocks pricked our feet as we ran to the water, and the sound of the continuous lap of the ocean carried the joyous laughter. Again, circumstances changed, but as I watched the rolling waves, I knew that no matter what, everything would be all right. I would keep going no matter what, just like the rolling waves. That became a lesson that I cherished and remembered for my whole life. While on the beach, my brother and I soon found ourselves running to the water, jumping in, and swimming all around. The salty taste delighted us whenever one splashed the other. Every day, we climbed down the bluff, stayed for hours, and climbed back up to wait for another day of fun. What can I say? When you're born into roaming the beach, nothing can stop the calling of the sea.

Last Fun Adventures

Over the years, we would journey down the trail and play on the beach. Over the years, the trail became steeper, and the bluff eroded. That didn't stop our adventures, though! My brother and I tied a rope around a tree above the trail, so we could hang on it while climbing down. That ensured our safety on the way down and didn't make our grandmother so worried about allowing us to walk down to the beach. Once safely down on the soft sand, my brother and I planned new games to play. I would have a restaurant and serve "sea" food to my brother. We would play old western and make wells for water that filtered the water through the creek. We would even find boards washed upon the shore and surf on them. The boards were rough around the edges, and scratched our legs, but it was totally worth it. Sometimes, though, just roaming the shoreline was fun enough, always looking for pretty, delicate shells, and more varieties of colored sea glass. And after my mom was in a position where she could visit us, she would come to our beach house and visit us. We would eat tacos, a family dinner special, and show her the beach. She seemed more peaceful and happier when on the beach, and that smile on her face made me happy to know that I was once again where I belonged. But as the summers left and the winters started, the bluff eroded, and eroded, and eroded. It grew difficult to walk down to the beach safely in the summer. There were huge jumps, long climbs, and stabs of sticks on our way down and back up. We came to a desperate, but depressing, answer.

Another Move

We decided to move. Again. The edge of the bluff came closer and closer to the house. Even our viewing deck overlooking the beach fell to the beach overnight due to the dangerous and eroded bluff. It was sad to leave the house of my dreams, adventures, and memories. But frankly, it didn't even have enough bedrooms for two teenagers. The internet was slow, it took forever to mow all the lawns, and taking care of the Airbnb cabin (farther from the bluff than our house) was tough work. Also, there were so many mosquitos in the summer, it was windy in the summer, and it took about 30 minutes to get to school! I kept thinking through all the pros and cons of moving, and even though we knew we had to move, that didn't mean we couldn't visit the house every now and then. Finally, we started the move on December 28th, 2022, and started at exactly noon. One hilarious memory from the move was when the moving truck came through the driveway, it got stuck with all the snow. It hadn't even been filled up with furniture yet, so our move was delayed a few hours. Luckily, that incident gave me a few hours to say goodbye to my beloved home and the kind, beautiful sea.

A New Chapter

I have been told that change is good. That everything will be alright in the end. After settling in our new three-bedroom apartment, I began wishing we were back in quiet, beautiful Kasilof: the sun around the property, the sound of the waves above the bluff, and the majestic trees! The change in my case didn't feel like it was good. But I remember that moving to Kenai was the best choice we could have made. We even live a block away from the beach! But it's not the same. When you're used to seeing the ocean every day, the sunrises and sunsets, the mountains and the wind, nothing could compare to that. The ocean runs through my veins, through my body. The ocean literally calls to me! Always on the beach, I run toward the water and sing! I splash and swim and sit...it's freedom! But now in this town, there is no freedom. There's just people, and cars, and buildings. This new chapter of my life was going to be hard to adapt to. But somethings that killed my worries, sorrow, and pain, were things that I have always wanted when I lived at the beach house. Since we live in Kenai now, I wouldn't be late getting to school; it took 30 minutes to get to school in Kasilof. In our apartment, I have my own room; before, I had to share a room with my brother or make a room out of the pantry, office, or playroom. We now had faster internet; we were connected to a satellite in Kasilof. I could get used to this life. Again, I was reminded of the forever rolling of the sea. After a sad moment, I rose up and made the best of what I had. I kept rolling.

The Sea is Calling: Forever and Always

In the summer following the move, my brother and I would bike or walk to the beach a block away. The first time I arrived at the beach, I was so thrilled and excited that I ran to the water, took my shoes and socks off, pulled up my leggings, and waded into the sea. The sea was calling, and I answered. I was home. After that, we took time to visit the beach at least once a week. I would walk the shoreline and look for shells to bring home to my grandmother. I would still surf the waves with my brother. And I would just soak in the sand, the sun, and the love that the ocean gave me. When dip netting started, my brother would carry his net, and I a cooler, and walk to the beach. My brother would trudge far, far into the water with his net, and I would stay ashore. The sun was beating on my back, and the sand warmed my feet. Whenever my brother netted a fish, I bonked it, cut the fins, washed it, and place it in the cooler. Then I would go back to enjoying the sea. Next year, I'll be in the sea with my brother, where I belong. I'll fish alongside him, while silently enjoying the ocean, the salty taste slightly on my tongue, the water lapping against my legs, and the sea calling to me. Just like the everlasting lap and rolls of the ocean waves, the sea will call to me, forever and always.