Rocks


I have been going since I was small to my Grandpa's beach
The rocky beach is full of memories
Each place having its very own story to tell
Skipping flat rocks,
the normal ones felt like boulders in our twelve small hands
as we threw the rocks as far as we could see,
they sunk, rarely skipping at all
We stepped carefully down the crooked creek,
"Ouch!" we said as the sharp rocks stabbed our small feet
even as we tried to avoid them
We clung to the rocks that had seemed like mountains,
never quite reaching the small pond at the end
For us it was a journey to a new world every single time we went
We would also wade in the
lake, sucking in our stomachs to somehow avoid the cold
and leaping over the freezing waves in Lake Superior
My sister's and my pink pigtails sinking into the lake, unnoticed
We all went under on the count of three together
"One. Two. Three!" we yelled with plugged noses
We'd run back racing up the beach together
the sharp rocks making us dance
as we tried to beat each other to the beach house
We ran fast, not really caring who won
The sand would always cling to us for a few days after
as if it was giving us another chance to go back and place it again
where it was found
to the place that was so special because we had each other

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