Oceanside, OR
Amelia Fae
My parents rented a beach house this weekend. We don’t get out of town a lot, and I’m grateful for the change of scenery… I really have a lot to do. This house is perfect, it’s so quiet in here. I just know I’m going to get so much done. I’ve been banking on this weekend for awhile now; I have a concerning pile up of homework. I can’t get anywhere with it at home. There’s too much going on there, all the time – I never get a moment to focus there.
I’m here though. At the beach. Rhythmically I rock back and forth in the 1970s recliner chair. I pull up my book-bag, unzip the flap and grab out my three-ringed binder. I feel that anxiety right away. My body feels tense, it’s resisting being there in the present moment. Middle school is so hard. I’m fidgety.
This is my moment though. My moment to concentrate. I’m at the beach for Christ sake, looking out a picture window at the waves rolling into and out from the shore. I try rocking my chair to the rhythm of the waves. They’re moving too slow. They should be faster. Do they get faster? I rock one full rotation, back and forth; I fix my gaze on a point way off in the distance. I rock in sync with the rhythm of that wave break.
I am going to finish my homework this weekend. There are no distractions here. Just the calm of the rolling ocean waves through bay window. I’ve put this off for so long. I had to get away from my house, the clutter of my room -- clear my head from distractions. All the chaos. All the other things to do. There's so many things I would rather do.
I lean over and look for a pencil and some paper. I pull out the instructions, and start to read about my assignment. It’s unclear when or why I lift my gaze, what brings my eyes and mind back out to sea. A family is walking down the beach. They’re so small out there, so far off in the distance. What are they even doing? Aren’t they cold? It’s so cold I can’t believe they’re even outside right now. I love finding starfish down there. Were there starfish out right now? I bet they found some sand dollars. A couple partial ones, at least. I always find the broken ones. I bet all the good ones get picked up so early in the morning, way before I’m ever up and out there looking for them.
I look left: what’s Emma doing? My sister sits next to me silent, reading tranquilly in the matching recliner by my side. How does she do that? She has laser focus attention, eyes glued to the pages, without moving a muscle. I wish I could do that. Doesn’t she feel restless? I feel like my skin is crawling. I’ve been sitting here too long, and need to move.
I put down my binder, and up I go onto two feet. I wander to the kitchen.. I need something something to munch on. What’s going on in the kitchen, anyway?..
