Ocean Breeze

I could feel the waves crashing down against my bare feet. The cold saltwater splattered on me, causing the slimy green seaweed to squish between my toes. It was times like these that I could feel my mother’s presence near me. When she died a few years back, I thought that there was no way I could ever get her back. In a way, I guess that’s true, but when I’m standing here, my bare feet immersed in the ocean’s water, it’s the only time I feel even slightly connected to my mother. Maybe that’s why I try to come here as often as I can.

The seaweed tangles around my ankles and I twist to get away. I manage to get one foot unstuck, but the other stays put, the slimy ocean grass continuing it’s journey around it. I contemplate using my hands, but decide against it. Instead, I try again to pull my foot out of the seaweed. Again, I fail. I sigh. Just as I am about to reach my hand into the salty water to free my foot, a full breeze sweeps past me, almost knocking me over. In reaction to the breeze, I balance myself, moving both my feet to the left. I look down and smile. The seaweed is gone.

It was my mother. She was the breeze, metaphorically. I silently thank her, and turn around to head up to the house. “How was your walk, honey?” my grandmother asks. She’s putting away the dishes from breakfast and her hair is up in a bun.

I smile. “It wasn’t much of a walk, grandma.”

She looks at me quizzically. “Then where exactly did you go?”

I shrug and head into the kitchen. My grandmother hands me a towel to wipe off my feet and I graciously accept it before answering, “I just went down to the water and stood there for awhile.”

My grandmother nods as if she understands. “So you stood there and thought, huh?” I nod. “Yep, just like your mother.”

I look up at her. “What do you mean?”

My grandmother sighs and sets down the bowl she was holding. “What I mean is, your mother… she was a big thinker. She would always stay up in her room all day and I would always worry about her, but she told me that she was just thinking a lot and not to worry about it. When we moved here, she got into this routine. She would get up around five and head out to the water. Never a walk, just straight out to get her feet wet. And then she would stand there and “think.” I guess I’ll never know what she always thought about, but I do know this: you’re a lot like her, Natalie.”

“I am?” The question rolls off my tongue before I can roll it back in. “I mean,” I recover, “in what other ways are we alike?”

My grandmother takes a seat at the table and motions for me to sit down. When I am situated she starts talking. “It’s hard to explain, Natalie, but I see a lot of your mother in you. The way you do your hair, the color of your eyes, your laugh, even your sense of style is similar to hers. Now don’t get me wrong, you are a lot like your father, too. It’s just that seeing you makes me think of her, that’s all.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t want you to be sad every time you look at me, grandma.”

“Oh no, no, no, child. The fact that I see her in you makes me happy. I see her living in you, through you, and I can finally find peace with the fact that she is gone.” My grandmother sighs and folds her hands together. “I know it’s been twelve years, but to be honest, without your grandfather, and with you and your father living states away, I never fully had closure. And then you showed up.”

“But grandma,” I say, “you’ve seen me many times since she died. Why didn’t you have closure then?” The thought confuses me, very much so. I look at her and wait for her to go on.

It takes her a few moments, but she eventually opens her mouth and starts speaking again. “It’s very hard to explain, Natalie. The best way I can put it is that when she, your mother I mean, was your age, your grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. It was a hard time for her, and for me as well, but it was during those times that I distinctly remember her every word, her every action. She was confused, hurt, devastated. And I see all of those emotions in you. So, in a way, it’s like I’m being brought back to all those years ago, and it’s like she’s seventeen all over again. Except…it’s you who is seventeen, and it’s you that is confused, hurt, and devastated.”

I feel tears pricking the ends of my eyes. I quickly wipe them away with my hands so my grandmother doesn’t see them. “I don’t want this summer to be like this. I don’t want this summer to be sad,” I say.

My grandmother looks at me. “Then we won’t make it sad.” She sends me a small smile. “How about we go see a movie? Don’t you want to see that new movie? Oh, what is it called?”

“Life as We Know It,” I tell her.

“Yes, that one! Oh, I hear it’s supposed to be so cute! And that Josh guy? What is that boy’s last name?” I try to answer her but she starts talking again. “Oh, well whatever his last name is he’s quite the looker, eh?”

I laugh and my grandmother stands up. “Well, how about you go get ready, and I’ll finish putting the dishes away, okay?”

I nod. “I have to take a shower, though, so don’t feel like you have to be in too much of a hurry.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Natalie. I’ll just read a book or something until you’re ready to go.”

“Alright, that sounds good,” I tell her.

As I turn to walk away, my grandmother calls to me. “Oh, and Natalie?” I turn around. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, grandma,” I reply. Then I head back to my room to grab some clothes to change into after I’m done with my shower.