"Pismo" by Lila Ouellette
Image by Thomas Ulrich from Pixabay
The ocean crashed against itself in the distance, warning all to not go in. On the beach, however, the small waves rippled up the shore before pulling back, teasing the sand. Seagulls sang their screechy songs while they flew above the water as if they were mocking the harsh waves: “You won’t harm us from here.” Tall, short, big, and small figures were making their way in every direction on the sand. Some laughing and talking; others trudging along the shoreline lost in their own thoughts. The sun was high in the sky, as if showing off to anything that cared to see it. Palm trees basked in the light the sun so generously gave to them; their many leaves swayed and wrestled with one another.
Tiny footsteps and the Channel 20 news playing behind the sliding glass door muffled the sound of cars zipping by like ants on the street behind the hotel building. The wind carried the salty smell of the ocean and the smell of fresh, greasy tacos all the way to the small plastic chair on our balcony where I had retreated.
Far too soon, the sound of many tiny footsteps interrupted my peace and quiet. They got louder and louder as they traveled across our one of two cramped hotel rooms to the only door that allowed outsiders into my escape. Soft voices and quiet conversations quickly turned into loud yells and laughter. The sliding glass door creaked and hissed; my refuge was gone.
Three tiny bodies shoved their way through the small width of the glass door, arguing with one another. The balcony’s calm and welcoming oasis immediately changed to suffocating and hostile.
“LILA, LILA!” my youngest cousin shrieks, out of breath. Her short, wild, curly, dark hair matches her energetic, pure, dark brown eyes and tanned skin perfectly.
“KK wants you to take us on a walk on the beach. She says she’d be right here, but we want to go now!”
I stand up, matching their far too ecstatic body language. “Why can’t you wait a while until KK can go?”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Why not?”
“We wanna swim now.”
My other cousin jumps in, shrugging her shoulders. Her dirty blonde curls match her sister's in pattern, but not color. Her bright blue eyes are locked on something on the beach. Neither of them look a thing alike. If it weren’t for their strikingly similar personalities, one would have no clue they were even related.
“It’ll still be awhile,” she says. “We gotta get our suits on. But KK’s finishing up something in their hotel room and she says it will be a long time before she can take us.”
My younger brother sits down in the seat I just got out of, smirking. His legs push the backs of my knees into the little glass coffee table that can’t be a foot away from the chair. I roll my eyes.
“Fine, I'll take you.” I cross my arms over my chest. Anything to give me a few more minutes of silence. “But you’re not swimming until at least one of the parents gets there,” I continue. “Please go now. Go get your suits on.”
“YAY! You’re the best!”
“Sure. Go, now.”
I sighed and sank back into the same position I was in before. The sweat from my legs re-stuck them to the plastic as the unsturdy legs of the chair caved in a little. The temperature felt like more than 100°F. Thankfully, the salty coastal breeze cooled the air down just enough to where the heat was tolerable through my knee-high, flowy, blue-striped dress. Even still, I was sweating like a madman. The cement ground of the balcony burned through my thin, green, bumpy textured flip-flops. The toe post had made blisters between my big and second toes on both my left and right foot that left my feet aching. I took off my flip flops and picked my feet up off the ground, scooting as far back as I could go in the chair to let my bare feet dangle in the air.
I continued watching the seagulls and started to wonder how they could fly so far without stopping. I wondered if they went from beach to beach, or from one side of the ocean to the other. I wondered what kind of things they ate when not taking food from people. Mostly, though, I thought about how great it must be to fly. Constantly being able to go wherever I wanted. Flying to the tops of trees and sitting there, feeling the breeze on my open body. No cares in the world. No responsibility whatsoever. Being completely and totally 100% free. It must be great to be a bird.
Lila Ouellette is 13 years old; she lives in Orono, Maine, and attends Orono Middle School. Lila really enjoys reading and writing, and she plays soccer year round along with basketball, softball and track. Lila said it was scary to send her piece to a publisher, but then, “I realized how great it is to work with fresh eyes. I’m going to do many more things like this in the future.”