Sand, wind, a seemingly endless expanse of water, lay out before me: the ocean, so big and blue… and disgusting. I hate beaches like I hate the scum on my boots. The sand crawling its way into every crevice, the stench of rotting flesh fills the air, the dark gloomy sky. I miss the beaches in Texas and California. No sun, just the windy barren expanse; Oregon in a succinct little package. At least, that’s what I thought before that day.

My family’s brilliant idea of a last hoorah before the starting of school consists of driving three hours in Memorial Day traffic, arriving at a boring hotel, and visiting the gloomy, freezing beaches. The first day, I stayed at the hotel, closing all the windows attempting to get rid of the acrid stench wafting through the whole town. I was doing all I could to avoid the sandy expanse they call beaches. My family left me to sleep and hope for cell signal. I want to go home; I want to see my dog.

They returned as I was pounding the button on a strange machine in the lobby that seemed to print pancakes. They tasted horrible, but I was looking for a thrill. Oh oh! Here it comes! And……… Flop! Ha ha! What brilliance! They stood and laughed as I watched those thin pancakes flip out. Back in the room they began to speak of their tales of tails in the surf. I didn’t regret missing the scene. In fact I’m glad I wasn’t there in the freezing mist and wind.

Later that day, we found our way to Agate beach. I wondered at the rolling expanse of dunes. I knew then, I didn’t stand a chance. I felt the inner child welling up inside of me like magma in an erupting volcano of joy. Must run through sand! I let out a yell as I flew careening into those walls of sand. I’m on my knees, feeling the fine grains flow through my fingers; silky smooth and wonderful. I dug, I buried myself; I did everything I could to get sand everywhere. This was the only beach in Oregon that satisfies my need for a clear expanse. No rocky cliffs in site; no rough tide pools, just sand and water. This was the closest I have ever been to heaven, like the beaches back in California, Texas, and Florida. But there were still a few stand alone differences: the sheer chill of the air, and the clouds shielding the sun, and the stiff breeze, ever buffeting. I hated the way the wind threw the sand at me. It stung and left me caked in a shell of the fine grain.