Hundred Words

Three

Three

Do you know that feeling, when you are swimming at the pool, or a lake, or even the ocean, when you dive under the surface of the crisp water, and you suddenly think: "this is amazing, it's like flying!"?

I thought the same thing now, as my once dry hair fanned out like a mermaid's in front of my face, the cool water funneling into gentle currents against my face. The water shone with a strange light that seemed to magnify the details of the sandy bottom, highlighting broken corals and glassy stones and shells, worn smooth from the endless buffering of the waves. A handful of silvery fish shone like miniature mirrors as they mingled with more exotic schools, disappearing into the crowd of reds, blues, and greens.

My hand dragged along the bottom of ocean floor, taking time to feel for smooth, time worn stones for my collection. I always find a way to make my treasure vanish, but for a good cause. Some I give to people to have as perfect skipping stones, others for people to give them good luck. Jess always begs me for the ones with special muted colors; strange, happy pastels that she leaves in her locker and windowsill.

My hand skims a smooth shard of rock, and I grasp it firmly before resurfacing. Instead of a stone, a piece of beach glass lies in my palm. Green and shining, it glimmers thanks to the slowly drying coat of water surrounding it. I dive back over to the shore, happy with my find for the day.

After stashing the piece of beach glass in my towel, i have to stifle a laugh as I notice how Max has occupied himself. He is maybe in foot-deep water, jumping around like he is being swarmed by bees. Whenever a wave comes, he chomps at the flying water, and he seems to do it endlessly, no matter how foul the water may taste, or how matted his fur is becoming.

" Max! Maxy! Come here, you goof!" I shout, his ears pricking mid leap, then forgetting his duty as wave-chomper, he bounds into the deeper water where I float. He greets me with a lick in the nose, his paws smoothly treading water next to me.

My mom says that when you have a border collie, they need to have a job to do to keep them healthy and occupied, since they were originally bred to vigorously help herd sheep on farms. I've heard of weird things some people do to give the dogs a job as pets, one being this: make a confusingly complicated wagon that can somehow be strapped onto the collie's back and roll on wheels behind them, and then let the dog run or walk around.

Is that not stupid?

Instead, Max likes to tow me around in the water.

Have you ever been to a zoo or aquarium with an animal show? The dolphins patiently let people hang onto their dorsal fins, and swim around in a circle while the audience praise them with well deserved applause. I guess Max missed out on his dream of becoming a dolphin, but he is plenty content with escorting me around the waters of Daytona Beach in the hopes of becoming noticed.

He's a major attention hog, even expecting my cat Soccer to throw treats of praise his way after he does a trick, or just leisurely strolls around the house or patio.

I don't know how he had the stamina for this much swimming, but after fifteen minutes of dragging me around in the water, Max was still going strong, his ears perked up toward the sky in a vain attempt to keep them dry. His tongue lolling out into the salty water was the only hint that he would soon be tiring. The sun was starting its ascent into the clear, deep water, it's rays starting to mingle with the relaxing waves that curved upward into the sky with welcoming hands.

"Are you getting tired, bud? The sun's going down, we don't want to be out here in the dark." Max just kept on swimming his loops.

"Look," I pointed to our striped towels laying in the sand, the rest of my family slowly but surely making their way to our resting area. "I'm sorry, we have to go."

Max just sneezed, his tail steering us toward the shore with a strained look in his eyes. His panting in the water sends up water splashing my way.

"Hey! Stop that!"

Max just stares back with a smug look on his face.

~~~

I huddle in my room, a fleece blanket wrapped around my shoulders, snug and cozy as I fall into my fluffy beanbag. Eli chases Mia though the hall, a giggling bull of energy bundled into blue pajamas, burning off steam from the excitement of the beach excursion.

Soccer my cat huddles on my bed, kneading the blue-striped comforter that billows around her tuxedo-cat fur as she lets out a contented, rumbling purr.

I sit still, my eyes closed as I breathe in slowly. I stick my legs out in front of me in a quick stretch, wriggling my toes to free them of the last remaining grains of sand that bother my every step.

After about five minutes of calm, a scratching noise erupts into my ears. My eyes shoot open to find Max scrabbling at the wooden feet of my bed, trying to get up to where Soccer rests. I groan.

"Max? Really?"

He just let's out a whimper, alerting Soccer that he is on the prowl for play. She seems to jump up within a second, her fur fluffing up like a Halloween cat, looking disheveled as if she had been sailing through the sky. She agilely leaps down, immediately getting a happy headbutt from the dog. But Soccer doesn't see it that way, giving Max in her mind what must have been a well-deserved strike on the nose.

He gives no mind, just races around until he can sniff her behind.

Soccer bolts forward as if catapulted, giving an exasperated hiss as she runs across my legs and takes a running jump back onto my bed where she can't be reached. She had reached her final straw, but now sat triumphantly on my bed, her claws gripping my comforter, and her tail lashing back and forth.

I groaned, knowing that whenever I tried to get in bed, Soccer would throw a fit.

Surprisingly, Max backed off, clearly saddened and frustrated that Soccer didn't want to play with him. His tags rung with a clanking chime that resonated within the room as he sulked away, in comparison to the bright clinging of Soccer's delicate silver bell.

I shook a finger at my feline, her whiskers spread out with excitement for finally scaring off the lumbering beast of the house.

"That was mean!" I admonished her.

But she hopped down from my bed, her tail curling with exuberance as her dainty white paws walked my way.

"Now you're trying to make me feel bad for yelling at you!" She rubbed up against my leg, butting her head against me, but letting out a purr.

I let out an exasperated sigh, getting up unsteadily and making my way to peek out the door and into the wood floored hallway. Airy watercolor and bold acrylic paintings of the beach and the Miami skyline as well as European scenes peered out from the gray-gold walls, a splash of well needed color against the drab background.

"Mom! I'm going to bed. Beach tired me out." I shouted groggily, unsure of where my mom was. I leaned my head on my hands as I waited for a reply, feeling like the person that almost falls asleep in a cartoon, their head dipping and then bolting upright again repeatedly.

"Okay, honey. Love you!" Her voice sounded from the kitchen, and I turned back around, eager to collapse onto my bed.

"Love you too."

I opened my ocean-facing window a few inches, allowing the sounds of the wildlife in the shrubs and on the beach, the slow, barely audible rumble of the crashing waves and the bursts of fresh air seep in gradually with the wind.

I flopped onto the mattress, and got comfy in the dimness of my room, letting the endless white-noise of the waves lull me into deep sleep.