Untitled - CSUN ScholarWorks - California State University, Northridge

wet and windy.
When we turned back to the blanket the sand stuck to
our feet making them heavier and my mother took my
hand to keep me warm walking over to kiss our castle
good-bye. I reached down and looking hard noticed a
pattern of footprints-disregard for the lines that silently
said No Trespassing-that screamed inside my own head. I
don't know if my mother realized the set of footprints
trampled through our castle, my tears, because we left the
beach, driven out by severities other than the weather, and I
had to walk. Walk back to the car myself to wear the sticky
sand from my feet and carry my towel soft and close to my
face, missing the day.
There are other things that I miss as well. The sound of
the corvier, the wind, my mother driving up to some place
wooden, some place not far from the beach, and I could still
smell the ocean. Salt water tanks filled the walls in rows
like bigger buckets my mother collected and instead of the
shrimp, the lobster hovered in the corner, she ordered clam
chowder served hot in a bread bowl to share. In my mother's
voice, she looked like this shrimp house, this dump of a
cafe just wasn't enough, that the greasy patty melt smell
was overbearing, perfuming the ocean she came here for
with a stench reminding her that her green eyes were only a
reflection of something sweet to me, only a way of looking
at me while she thought out loud "North to one of the
Dakotas or maybe Minnesota."
Minnesota is my favorite state, partly because I have
never been there. I've been to all the others or at least I
know people who grew up on cheese farms in Wisconsin
and people who still do live in Indiana, who know everyone
in their small town and K-mart makes them smile. K-mart
was never enough for my mother.
My mother believed in things like the turquoise ring
she kissed before putting it on her finger everyday for
fifteen years, before setting it in my hand and running to
the rest room like it wasn't ok to have this moment, "At
least not here, not around here," she said and I received
restaurant tapioca, the can, the lid non existent, whipped
cream on the top and I wanted to like it, it tasted good,
wanted to switch back to chocolate.
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