Julia Anna Moore

  I close my eyes and breathe in slowly, filling my lungs with the lingering scent of the ocean air. I can taste the salt on my tongue, reminding me of the taste of the tears that roll down my cheeks and into the corners of my mouth when I am feeling wretched from a series of unfortunate events. But today, I feel the opposite. I feel serenity as I listen to the symphonic sound of the ocean. I try to imagine myself floating in the vast, unknown world of the big blue pool that covers most of the world that I live in. How could one travel the world without befriending the ocean? I breathe out. Overhead, seagulls make lame jokes at each other, or maybe at us. The waves break along the shoreline, right in front of where we are standing. I feel a smile spread across my face as I wriggle my toes, and suddenly all serenity is washed from my body quicker than rain washes away a child’s chalk drawing on a stormy summer afternoon. I want to leap and yell and run down the coast until I cannot go f