Feeling Tidal

Three

I've never been hungover before, but I imagine it to be much like waking up at a new house, or even waking up on vacation.

A full body ache from sleeping in a bed that isn't really yours, a headache from the lack of quality sleep you got, and an outfit that could only be curated by someone living out of a suitcase.

"Jesus christ." I groggily mumbled to myself, slapping my hand over my eyes to shield them from the blinding sun.

A cool breeze swept me up and out of bed to cover my goosebump coated body in a dark green hoodie and black sweatpants. I shuffled on a pair of wool socks before heading downstairs where both my parents had brewed coffee and set breakfast.

"First night alright?" my dad sat down a plate of waffles and a cup of coffee at our kitchen table for me. The white marble was too fancy for my liking, but as long as I could cover the waffles in maple syrup, I'd be able to let it slide.

"Oh yeah deff." my eyebrows raised up.

My heart almost sank watching him slide the syrup to me across the table. I could practically see the glass shatter before I realized it was a plastic bottle, that him and my mom had got at the grocery store around here. Meaning it was some cheap fake crap.

"What?" I questioned, reading the label on the plastic bottle. "Didn't we pack the stuff that wouldn't expire?"

"We did, but that's coming with the rest of the boxes." he walked over to pat my shoulder and take a seat on the chair beside me. "Look, this is where all of our stuff is now."

On his phone, he pointed to a gps like tracking system with a cartoon truck moving around the New Jersey area. Our little car could only drag along so many boxes, meaning that it was too early to figure out what we lost during the move and what just hadn't arrived yet.

I began uninterestedly chewing my waffles, revolted by how sweet it was. Artificially sweet, that is.

"Where's mom?"

"Getting dressed, we're gonna go for a walk along the water," he turned off his phone and shoved it into the pockets of his jorts, remembering our no phones at the table rule we made back when I got my first phone. "You're welcome to come along."

"Fine." I said, getting up to throw out the soggy waffles which were moments from leaking through the bottom of the thin paper plate.

The floors weren't nostalgically creaky, but they were slippery enough that I could slide across them in my socks. Which was almost as important. I jogged up the stairs and held the door frame as I swung into my room. Kneeling in front of my suitcase it was obvious I expected the boxes we did bring to have my clothes, but they didn't.

For the walk with my parents all there was left to sport was an off white tee with a small piece of the sleeve rolled back, a pair of unfrayed jean shorts that went down to my mid thigh. Ripping off the wool socks which wouldn't stand a chance against the beach, I slid back on the uncomfortable, borderline painful flip flops. My face slightly crinkled just looking down at them, and my unpainted toes.

Both my parents waited for me down in our screened in porch.

"Are we ready?" my mom asked clicking open the glass door.

Similar to my adventure last night, we crossed the road and met with the cement wall which stretched almost a mile. Every certain amount of yards there was a small opening with cement stairs that led straight onto the beach.

"Take off your shoes, that's what you do on the beach." my mom said playfully slapping my back. "Have we really kept you this deep in the woods?"

Hesitantly, I slid off the flip flops and let them dangle in my hands. Thankfully most of the sand around here was actually similar to the sand by the lakes back home. Wet, compact, but with less rocks stabbing from under you.

I walked beside my mom, who walked beside my dad, who walked not only beside but through the little waves. Not yet had I figured out why, but oceans were far more intimidating than lakes and ponds. Obviously they were bigger, but I don't think that was why.

The wind slapped my hair onto my face, blowing it in and away from me, probably getting it tangled too. I tried tying it back but the wind wouldn't allow my hands to wrap around it.

A few people, mainly old couples with dogs passed by us. Enjoying a morning walk on day whatever of retirement. That was another thing, almost everyone I've seen around here looks over the age of at least fifty. My options for friends get lower and lower, not that it really bothered me.

Seeing people run while I'm on a walk put me off. I can't explain it but it made me feel almost lazy. This person who would be passing momentarily, was shockingly my age.

He had tan skin and brown hair that looked as if it had been lightened from being in the sun for such a long time. He was also apart of the I wear shirts to remind people of where they are committee, sort of. It read "Vargas Fish & Tackle". Despite the corny shirt, he was kind of- attractive?

Sunglasses are one of the best inventions. Especially for those who like people watching. I'd been looking at each of the people passing by without them being aware as my eyes hid behind black shades. I took note of them.

Sun bleach fisher boy turned his head to face us in a familiar way. As if he hadn't seen us walking as he ran to our direction. It clicked. Like the little rectangle that clicked last night. Just as he did before, he swerved his head to us then right back to face forwards.

Oceanside runner by day, cement wall observer by night.