The weather in New York right now is quite conflicting. It’s beautiful, I will admit, but boy, is it cold. It’s only October, and I already have to bust out my heated jacket. As a summer baby and beach bum, I’m beyond sad.
I usually spend Sep-May in a long depressive episode. I do everything possible to keep my mental health in the green, but like the slush, it turns grey. You can usually catch me in my bed looking back at past summer pics with my bikini and tan, and trust me, I’ve already been missing it.
I think most people can say they enjoy being at the beach. There’s so much to love about it: the waves crashing, the warmth of the sun, and looking for seashells. I would say my love for the beach isn’t just surface-level, however. I grew up going on my grandpa’s boat as early as 1 year old (although my dad claims he took me when I was even younger).
My entire childhood was spent on Lake Erie. I had my pink Disney Princess fishing pole and tackle box that never caught a single fish, but I loved being included anyway. My Uncle Andy and Uncle Joe both owned houses with access to a private beach in Angola, so trips to Maria’s Pizza (the BEST pizza place ever) and sunsets on the water were a recurring weekend activity.
Going on boats was a cornerstone of my childhood as well. My grandpa always had his boat, but a few years ago, my dad bought his own boat. It became the go-to family activity to go out, eat Wegman’s subs, and relax at Mickey Rats. I started inviting my friends to go out with us, and I became known as the friend with the boat.
During my summer breaks from school, you could always catch me at the beach. Whether it was on the boat or on the shore, I was always there.
This past August, for my graduation trip, my family and I went to Florida. We started in New Smyrna, which was the most beautiful beach I’d ever been to, despite the countless shark warnings. Then we drove to Clearwater, which dethroned New Smyrna. I had never seen such beautiful water and soft, clean sand. Don’t even get me started on Indian Rocks Beach. In another life, I was meant to live in a beachfront house.
I can’t explain the deep-rooted connection I feel to Lake Erie and the ocean. Prior to my Florida trip, I’d only ever stuck my feet in an ocean. It’s not like we took yearly family vacations to an ocean or ever lived near one. My dad always told me I was a fish because I loved swimming and being in water so much.
I wish I could express my love for water, but I can’t even use the right words to do it justice. My lifelong obsession with the lake will eventually be designed into a tattoo so I can always carry these memories as art. I hope one day I can own a waterfront property and fulfill my childhood dream.
