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Definition of happiness in literature
Symbolism of the ocean in the awakening essay
Symbolism of the ocean in the awakening essay
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Shaft - Original Writing
I walked up the sandy footpath through the dunes, scuffing the dry
ground with my toes. The sun blazed down making the bronzed ground
shimmer like a pool of gold. The salty tang from the sea lingered on
my tongue. The dry grasses and scrub growing in clumps alongside the
path rustled softly in a gentle breeze, whispering in secret tongue,
and a small clod of sand skittered forward, tickling my bare ankles.
A few yards up, the sloping path levelled and then dropped, a steep
bank of golden grains, and suddenly, like a magician waving his wand,
the glittering expanse of the sea was spread out in front of me, an
azure shimmering sheet. The wind whipped my loose hair around my face
and my long light skirt billowed out. Yachts danced on the blue
horizon, their bright sails like beacons on the waves. Below me, on
the beach, deckchairs and umbrellas stood out boldly from the endless
stretch of gold, and little matchstick people ran laughing and
screaming through the sand with buckets and spades and inflatable
dinghies. Others were stretched out on towels, hats balanced over
their eyes, and suntan lotion to hand. Children splashed happily in
the shallows, tossing handfuls of sun-warmed water over each other,
and diving under the surface to search for treasure. Most people were
simply sitting in their deckchairs, staring peacefully out at the
limpid waters, still marvelling at its beauty. Something I marvelled
at every second of my life.
I smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air. I closed my
eyes, and just for a moment I was one with the sea, sailing through
the air on the white-tipped waves, and c...
... middle of paper ...
...trickling out of the hem of the skirt and the creases of my top.
I looked out at the sea, breathing deeply. The waves crashed again
onto the beach, where little matchstick people ran about, laughing and
screaming. There were still children splashing in the sea, and there
were still people sunbathing on their brightly-coloured towels with
their brightly-coloured umbrellas shielding them from the sun. I
looked at the deckchairs.
They weren’t facing the sea. They were turned away, turned towards me,
turned towards the dunes. That wasn’t right, surely.
I tilted my head slightly, trying to remember something. Something…
something… it was almost there. A pleasant memory… no. It was gone.
Shrugging, I walked down the rest of the dune, onto flat, warm beach,
settled myself in an empty deckchair and gazed out at the land.
The whole island is in the shape of a giant square with white sandy beaches full of people sunbathing, swimming and fishing right on the shoreline. From the end of the hot pavement parking lot to shore of the beach is an ocean of soft white sand. The pearlescent white sand seems to know how to invade every nook and cranny almost as if it enjoys it. Walking around the beach on the fluffy whiteness surrounding the parking lot, the seagulls are fighting over scraps of food on the ground. “Sandy beach ecosystems provide invaluable services to humankind. Their functions have been exploited through history, with significant anthropogenic effects (Lucrezi, 2015)”. This white sandy beach is a beautiful refuge from the mundane grind of everyday life. The smell of the misty ocean air mixed with the sound of seagulls hovering above and kids playing is a tonic for the mind. The feel of the sand between their toes and the waves crashing over them as people swim in the water, or the jerk of a fishing pole when someone is catching a fish makes Fred Howard Park one of the best places to relax. Standing on the beach looking out on the water, people are kayaking and windsurfing. The lifeguards watching vigilantly in their bright red shirt and shorts, blowing their whistles when they see someone being unsafe. After a long day of swimming and laying around visitors head back over the soft white sand to the showers, in order to rinse off the menacing sand that clings to everything like a bad habit. Everyone rushes over the hot pavement burning their feet to reach their cars so they can put away their beach paraphernalia which is still covered in the white sand, nearly impossible to completely leave behind, so when they get home it serves as a reminder of where they were that
In Colum McCann’s novel, Let the Great World Spin, tragedies strike every character, and the way in which the different characters seek closure and counseling ends up shaping their personalities. While the approaches used to combat their grieving varies from character to character, McCann makes a compelling argument in support of seeking out grief counseling within a community. Many of the characters, such as Lara and Claire seem to initially internalize their feelings, and continually beat themselves up due to their guilt ridden and grieving conscious. Yet when they find their respective groups, which on the surface, seem to differ greatly between Lara and Claire, both characters are relaxed in their element. Claire finds comfort in Gloria, the polar opposite of her, while Lara finds comfort in the reparations she attempts to make with Corrigan’s family, namely Ciaran.
I smiled to myself and decided that I would go join in. With that, I took a huge deep breath and jumped into the salty water. The water was cool and refreshing; I felt it slide through my hair making it sway in the water. I swam deeper and deeper into the deep blue water. Sunlight streamed through it, lighting up the water around me turning it to gold. I kicked harder and I felt my muscles surge with strength and I pushed further. My lunges began to burn for the need of oxygen, but I refused to go up. I repeatedly told myself just a little bit longer. Until I was unable to proceed anymore without more air in my lungs, I swam to the top of the water taking a huge breaths, filling my lungs with air. I could then taste the salty water as it ran down my face and dripped over my lips. Just then I thought, I will never forget this moment, this place, or the experiences I felt while visiting
When the day came to leave I was woken at the crack of dawn. I was keen to get to Blackpool as swiftly as possible, not only for the football that was ahead of us but also for the famous Pleasure Beach. The coach picked us up at around 8 am and in we crammed into an already full coach. The journey down was full of laughter and friendly joking from the parents. That day, it was particularly hot and inside the coach a number of people were becoming uncomfortable. I was unaffected by the warmth inside the coach, with my earphones in I relaxed and paid more attention to the vast countryside we were passing through. The vivid scenery blew me away, with colossal hills to calm rivers that we met on the journey.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
would grab one last beer on dry land. To my surprise I noticed one of
It was a warm sunny day in the summer of the nineteen nighties nine, at the Jersey Shore. Sally stood outside her grandparents ' house with hesitation. Should Juan and I have come? Sally thinks to herself. Sally then begins to gaze out at the ocean 's shorelines. As if time had stood still and the world faded away. She closed her eyes and took it all in. It made her think of all the wonderful childhood memories that they had achieved there. Sally remembered playing in the sand, swimming in the ocean, the bright sun gazing down upon her and a boy. This place had memories that Sally would never forget and treasure forever, for that kid now a man was always in her heart and her life.
This morning I wake early from the light that creeps underneath my blinds and my bed next to the window. I wake floating on the streams of light, heated, like white wax spilled across the floor, dripping, soft. In bare feet I walk down the stairs, cold on the wood, and find my father in the kitchen, also awake early. Together, we leave the house, the house that my parents built with windows like walls, windows that show the water on either side of the island. We close the door quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. We walk down the pine-needle path, through the arch of trees, the steep wooden steps to the dock nestled in the sea-weed covered rocks. We sit silently on the bench, watch as the fog evaporates from the clear water. The trees and water are a painting in muted colors, silver and grays and greenish blue, hazy white above the trees.
I turned off the car and took a deep breath. Looking slowly up into the pink sky, I began to watch the golden sun go to sleep. The beach seemed deserted, quiet, but peaceful. I opened my door and put my feet out on the soft sand. I started taking my shoes off, then my socks. I threw them in the passenger seat, and then shut the door. I looked out over horizon of the lake and started walking towards the still water. With each step I took, I could feel the warm sand crunch between my toes. Then suddenly, a sharp rock, but not sharp enough to break the skin.
Coral Cliff - Original Writing It was a cold and windy night. The trees moved vigorously as the wind blew. The silence was frightening. Carol’s face became red because of the cold. She was driving as fast as she could through Elmore street- the longest road in Sydney.
In the deep crevices between the tufts of grass, the shadows stalked slowly upward, submerging the sandy earth in an inky sea. The sun sank until only its last, thin razor of light glimmered over the fields. Time stretched its ancient joint...
But we did go on the boardwalk almost every night. Every night seemed to be different. We tried to experience everything in a different way. Coastal Highway, not unlike the ocean, seems to go on endlessly. When we were near Coastal Highway, I put my window down and let the smell of the sand and sea waft into the car. The rain had started, but it was only a light mist. The temperature had cooled off now too. I decided to take an evening swim. Some of the waves were raising nearly 10 feet. In the evening when we all entered the beach some lifeguards were announcing that tides are so strong. Though I was not
I wandered around the path near the lake because it was always peaceful and quiet there in the morning and the trees that hung over the wide walkway only drew me in more. The cool wind blew continuously, and some of the leaves that barely hung on to the branches were pulled along with it. They floated while dropping slowly, and one of the leaves chose my head as a landing spot. I brushed my hair with my hand, not caring if doing so messes up my hair, since the wind already accomplished that job the second I took a step outside my house.
Rolling waves gently brushed upon the sand and nipped softly at my toes. I gazed out into the oblivion of blue hue that lay before me. I stared hopefully at sun-filled sky, but I couldn’t help but wonder how I was going to get through the day. Honestly, I never thought in a million years that my daughter and I would be homeless. Oh, how I yearned for our house in the suburbs. A pain wrenched at my heart when I was once reminded again of my beloved husband, Peter. I missed him so much and couldn’t help but ask God why he was taken from us. Living underneath Pier 14 was no life for Emily and me. I had to get us out of here and back on our feet. My stomach moaned angrily. I needed to somehow find food for us, but how? Suddenly, something slimy brushed up against my leg and pierced my thoughts. I jumped back and brushed the residue of sand of my legs. What was that? As my eyes skimmed the water in front of me, I noticed something spinning in the foam of the waves. Curiosity got the best of me and I went over to take a closer look. The object danced in the waves and eventually was coughed out onto the beach. “Emily!” I called to my eight-year-old daughter who was, at that time, infatuated with a seashell that she found earlier that day. “Come here and see this! Mommy found something.” Although I had no idea what that something was and I definitely didn’t know it would change my life forever.