Water licked the beaches golden sands and lapped up the land before it. I sat their on my folded beach towel dreaming. Just dreaming. Nothing special. Nothing strange. I could have sat their forever in the warm of the waning sun and the gentle flickering of the sea. The characteristic sail-shaped hotel rose above me. The calming aura of water engulfed me. Countless waves washed my soul away to peaceful silence. The crumbling sand gives way under my hands as I push up off of the ground. A sea gull dips overhead as I lift my snorkel out of the sand. Slowly I wind my way down the long beach towards the sparkling sea. As I walked I strapped the stuffy snorkel onto my face. It was humid inside but I did not care. Looking back I see my family sitting there the castle made earlier stretched by their feet. Turning back to the sea I ran into its embrace.
I was oblivious to all. I could hear only the pounding of my heart and rhythmic beating of my legs as I headed into deeper water. The blue was startlingly bright and the end of it was no where to see. After a few minutes I decided I was far enough. I took a large breath and dived down. Down. Down. The colours around me were wonderful and the salty taste of the water was sharp. After the exhilaration of nature I threw myself upwards towards the light of the sun and broke through the calm surface. Treading water I hung suspended on twine sparkling white surrounded by shimmering sea. I was so light. Weightless. A feather.
Further and further out I swam. The sea floor dropping away below me, a chasm of time. Eyeing a particularly rocky shelf I dived. Water all around me, suddenly a flash of silver and another. Surrounded by darts of moonshine, I gasp. I floated vacuous as they glint and blaze about me. Then suddenly fear gripped me. My lungs scraped the inside of my chest and threatened to implode into the vacuum within. Feeble bubbles protruded from my open mouth. Precious seconds passed as I sank to the sea floor. I felt the muscles in my legs spasm and then go weak. Kicking of the seabed I had a rush of adrenalin. Water rose magnificently from the place that I crashed through the surface. Every muscle felt heavy yet my mind was as placid as the water around it. I carefully dragged my limbs out of the water and lay out flat in the heat of the sand pondering over the question of life as each water droplet evaporated off of my back.
Snow days were not so much as a rarity when I was younger. At least once a year we were promised a day full of snowballs and sled races. It was an annual event and on the day the whole neighbourhoods kids would come out and play. The road would be full of screaming children. The snowball fights would last long and only ended when everyone was too cold and tired to carry on. We would trudge back home to be greeted by warm mugs of tea and biscuits.
I remember Tom Forest well. He was a young boy at the time of my memory and very annoying. His cronies that he spent time with made him their leader due to, what they were convinced were, excellent insults. If ever you entered a word throwing match with one of them you were guaranteed that in a short while Tom would waddle over, sweat clinging to his upper lip and spittle flying from his stuttering mouth. His arms were huge and pink like hanging hams and his belly was a barrel of beer. He was short yet any room he entered was instantly dominated by his loud voice. Ever since year three he had been annoying and I despised him. We were playing football that day on the grass bare school field when Tom had decided to play in goal. I was on the other side. The game kicked of and all started well. I was feeling quite happy with how I was playing that day and after skipping through a few tackles I decided to try my luck from distance. The shot was a stinger. But Tom got to it, somehow. He jeered at me. I tested him again and again yet always Tom saved. My frustration grew and yet I could not beat him. Near the end of the game it was still a draw. I needed to score. I threw myself into the tackle and at last I got the ball. The run started. I ran towards the goal. People tried, but failed to take the ball. When close enough I prepared to shoot. My foot pulled back and the trigger pulled. The ball flew. Straight as an arrow, fast as a meteor. The dull thump as it hit Tom full in the stomach and he crumbled into a heap, the distant ringing of the bell. Walking away, insults rang in my ears.
That night the snow fell heavily. It had been two weeks since the football incident yet anger still ran thick in Tom’s blood. Revenge burned in his eyes. And yet he did not come out. Time passed and snowballs were thrown. We were having a great time. A great snowman loomed above us. His bright orange nose and black eyes searched the crowd below. Its face seeped wisdom and knowledge. Its cheerful smile emanated happiness and the laughs of all rang in its ears. The snow sparkled in young children’s eyes. That was when Tom came out. That is when he ruined our snowball fight. Tom swaggered out of his house, tracksuit bottoms and hooded jumper filled by his stomach. His short black hair sparkled with sweat. Some around me mused that the walk down the stairs was too much for him.
From around the corner other of Tom’s friends came. Twenty of them, there were only ten of us. They were all pulling sleds full of snow balls. I looked back, our stocks dwindled. We retreated. Snowballs peppered our backs. We turned back to face them. Minutes passed. Insults were exchanged. They taunted us. Plans were made, hidden behind a car. We charged. Fury etched in each face. Snow balls flew around me. But I held onto mine. The cold seeped through my gloves. Bloodlust and fear emanated from us. We were metres away. My arm went back and sprung forward. The snow ball flew. Slowly through the air. I watched as it slapped Tom on the face and listened to the roar of my friends. We penetrated their lines and ran the rest of the way home laughing.
I was humble and quiet when I was a kid, turning into another person to fit in when amongst my peers. Secondary school was fun, although some days seemed endlessly dull as there was never much excitement. Every moment seemed focused on studies and nothing more. A strict schedule implemented to facilitate as bright a future as possible for the students as they left the school. There, I learned the values of self belief and the need for self-discipline. I neither need to be told or forced into studying, because I know that I must if I should realise my dreams. This makes me sound responsible, but that is not true. I am sometimes very irresponsible. Perhaps this was due to my care free home life. Filled with endless summer days, building dens or bouncing on the trampoline in the garden or lost in the imaginary worlds of computer gaming, ‘FIFA’, ‘Call of Duty’, ‘Lord of The Rings’. This and other distractions left me incapable of doing almost anything, even the simplest of tasks such as washing dishes. When I think back now to the early years of my life, I wonder and dream. I wonder who I would be and where I would be going if I had not made the decisions that I had made or had the good fortune that I met along my way. But in the end I am proud just to be me. Emotions, well in a cauldron of chaos, when I think of my younger self, I smile at his successes, empathise with his problems and cringe with embarrassment at his rash actions. He is another person and yet an integral part of me. Clutching at my conscience, and yet clutched, somewhere deep within my chest. Driven into me by myself and my ever changing circumstances. Hidden by years of change and yet on fleeting occasion he appears, innocent as white, white snow.