Oceans and Oceans

The Sand is in our Shoes

6/20/1995

Dear Journal,

The ocean is on the horizon as always, and like eighth grade, we can see it. My interest in being outside today was pretty low. So far, this summer is as warm as it is painfully boring. It is crazy, sweaty, warm. We have only been out of our seventh grade classes for six days and we will be eighth graders soon enough. It will be here and we can see it. I can see it.

Our class, my friends, we are now heading into our final year of middle school – the end of middle school hell. Our lives are meant to go high and move into a newer, a better direction. I hope I hope. But in the meantime, of the sixth, seventh, and eighth grade classes, we head towards this horizon to rule them all. Eighth grade is our reaching our limit. For us, the limit exists.

This is my home. And yes, I do love the beach, but, I'm bored as blisters are red. I'm with my best friends Kristin and Heather. We three are now spending each sunny day outside. Me against my will, but the lure of the beach enhances my enjoyment of friendships. And it keeps me busy. My mother works every hour. She has three jobs. Actually, in one month exactly, I will be working, too. I will be thirteen, then. At Candy's. They sell candy. Honestly I don't know if I am excited or not. Probably less sun, less beach time for me, but I will still be on the boardwalk. I should be excited, demit.

We sat by JR's blue beach chair and umbrella stand, playing Egyptian War, (just so you know -nope, we were not raised to call this Egyptian Ratscrew - not from where we are from). I had an idea who would be winning today. I knew it would be me or Kristin. We laughed between the three of us and smiled. Yet, of course and often, we are interrupted by sand being kicked in our eyes by silly tourists nearby. Sand should not be in our eyes. We wondered where these tourists had come from, what city, which towns, and which states - and how many hours it took their silly families to drive here to our home. Our backyard. Our beach town. We were the locals. The sand is in our shoes, not theirs.

I wondered all of this. I wonder all the time. Maybe Kristin did too.

                Kristin cheered in, breaking my wondering about it all, "GO. It's your turn."

                She actually wasn't paying attention. I had already just made my go with a nine-of-clubs. I took another turn again anyhow, another nine (spades this time) single-handedly slapping, stealing the pile. I'm sort of winning.

                Heather asks Kristin when she is getting married. "No way. I hate boys," she replied.

                "But you like Jason, Kristin. He's over our house every day," Heather said. She herself, a middle sister, Kristin's junior – would be leaving elementary school and starting middle school in sixth grade. Our domain. Also, Jason was the coolest kid in school. A surfer like all the popular kids, but he was the one everyone looked up to. The quietest, and yet the most coolest. He has always been the most popular since I first met him in fourth grade, when we all had to line up against the wall. I suppose that was to go from our classroom to band or the cafeteria or to gym, maybe. We were in Ms. Gordy's fourth grade class. Kristin was there too. She's my best friend. Yup, I think this is what's called going on a tangent.

Anyway, Jason has totally been at Kristin's house a lot lately. Two Saturdays ago, I biked over to her house as the clouds were rolling in. It wasn't a beach day. It was a super humid, cloudy day. Jason was there already with two of his friends, and I was left feeling alone in Kristin's house. My best friend's house. No one talked to me; and then I biked home in the rain. It makes me uncomfortable because I think I'm jealous. Of both Kristin and Jason.  It drives me nuts.