Picture Imperfect

I was five. I felt the moist air soak into my dry, Colorado skin immediately. The bitter cold temperatures were instantly forgotten as the postcards my grandma always sent came alive. The first wave crashed loudly against the shore and I squeezed my mom's soft hand a little tighter. The vast, endless horizon coupled with the boom of the wave frightened me. It was so different than my still, quiet pond at home. Soon my fear was forgotten though, as my sisters ran straight into the big blue monster and laughed with joy. The damp sand at the edge of the lapping waves called my name, asking to be turned into a sand castle full Disney princesses and flying winged horses. People flashed smiles in my direction, laughing because of my obvious wonderment. I was at Charlie Young Beach in Maui, Hawaii. I was in paradise.

I was eight. My mind struggled to remember the faint whispers of the beach three years ago. The black volcanic rocks protruded from the tan sand. Were those the same rocks that had made my fort three years ago? They must have been. My hand ran over their rough, porous surface while their firm stance blocked a wave’s attack. The distinct smell of salt and heat sent a million signals to my mind telling me to smile, for I was finally back. I ran freely after my cousin into the monstrous ocean. Everything was just as it should have been at first: the ocean was deep blue with white foam borders, the hot sand was soft in its own way, and the palm trees towered over me. But a few things weren't quite right. The salt from the ocean stung my eyes; the sand was warm, but full of thorns waiting to grab my bare feet. I took one more deep breath, hoping the smell of the beach would hide these flaws in paradise. As the humid air filled...

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...ssues allows for me to make a difference. Now that I can see the selfishness in people's eyes like a stubborn tree stump that refuses to move out of the way, I am able to also see where I can be used for the betterment of society. Beauty inside people is an anomaly and harder to see now that I have experienced the pain, abandonment, and betrayal that people readily give out. It doesn't mean that beauty doesn't exist within people, but just like the beach, it is tainted with layers of moral ugliness. To love people means to be able to see past their flaws. To see my Charlie Young Beach as the fantasy world of my childhood, I have to look beyond all of its imperfections, or those that society has brought to it. I am grateful to paradise for revealing these truths to me and presenting me with a mission to reveal the world’s hidden beauty in the way only children can see.