Photo by Kathryn
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It was the sand of Cancun that she would remember. She would always remember feel of the soft sand beneath her body, the feel of the sand between her toes. It was from the vacation she took with her college friends that last summer before they would graduate and head off into the real world. It was a summer for fun and freedom.
They had taken the shuttle from the resort into town for another great evening. They danced and danced all night. Laughter and smiles and everything good were the memories being created.
Somehow in the crowd, she lost her friends. She waited. She looked. She went back to the last part of the dance floor where they had been together. She looked in the ladies' room. She went outside. Everything was just so crowded that she knew she would never find them. After thirty minutes, she walked to the local bus stop.
She hopped on the bus and paid the cheap fare. The bus was full of couples and groups of friends, everyone building their own great memories. She watched them all exit the bus at their stops as she rode out to her hotel, one of the farthest from the night life.
When she got off the bus, the two locals seated at the front got off, too. They grabbed her and headed to the beach.
On that beach a new memory was formed, one that would never leave her. She would never forget the feel of the soft sand beneath her body as the rough men took her innocence. She would never forget feel of the sand between her toes as she ran back to the resort.
She didn't need that jar of sand to remember that vacation. That sand etched a memory in her that haunts her every day.
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It was the sand of Cancun that she would remember. She would always remember feel of the soft sand beneath her body, the feel of the sand between her toes. It was from the vacation she took with her college friends that last summer before they would graduate and head off into the real world. It was a summer for fun and freedom.
They had taken the shuttle from the resort into town for another great evening. They danced and danced all night. Laughter and smiles and everything good were the memories being created.
Somehow in the crowd, she lost her friends. She waited. She looked. She went back to the last part of the dance floor where they had been together. She looked in the ladies' room. She went outside. Everything was just so crowded that she knew she would never find them. After thirty minutes, she walked to the local bus stop.
She hopped on the bus and paid the cheap fare. The bus was full of couples and groups of friends, everyone building their own great memories. She watched them all exit the bus at their stops as she rode out to her hotel, one of the farthest from the night life.
When she got off the bus, the two locals seated at the front got off, too. They grabbed her and headed to the beach.
On that beach a new memory was formed, one that would never leave her. She would never forget the feel of the soft sand beneath her body as the rough men took her innocence. She would never forget feel of the sand between her toes as she ran back to the resort.
She didn't need that jar of sand to remember that vacation. That sand etched a memory in her that haunts her every day.
ok. SO. I don't really have anything to write because that experience is yet to be had, BUT, it is an odd cowinkikdink that the prompt today would be about travel, because today, my dad and I are finalizing our travel plans for this summer, to place I have never been, on virtually the other side of the planet!!!!!!!!!!
woohoo
It was the sand of California that she would remember. It had taken 9 months of driving 3,000 miles, staying in every major city it the U.S. and even stops in Canadian and Mexican border towns, but she finally got there. She had filled books with her Polaroids, and other scraps of memeories.
But none of them compared to the soft warm grains beneath her sching feet. She sat down to take it all in- her ankles were killing her. The waves crashed just a few yards away and she felt like she was tipping off the edge of the world.
A pain hit below her swollen stomache. Then another, and another. They came sooner each time, like the thunder of an approaching storm. A man walking by with his dog noticed the strain on her face, "Excuse me, but I'm a doctor and you don't look so good. Are you alright? Are you having contractions."
"I think so." She murmered, trying to clutch the sand. It only seeped through her fingers. The doctor knelt beside her, "Is there anyone I can call?" She shook her head and did not look at him. "Ok, do you mind if I see how far along you are?" She could only shake her head. She heard the man swear, and then he said, "You're having this baby, now- and I mean right now!" A small crowd gathered at his excited shouts.
The beach goers offered what they had to the new mother. Umbrellas were set up to give her shade and privacy while the doctor and the life gaurds went to work. Some one shifted her onto a low chair. She swallowed some one's water and painkillers, though they wouldn't help much. And there were more towels than they needed.
After alomost two tense, painfull, akward hours, a baby girl was cleaned and wrapped in a beach towel, her umbilical cord cut by a Boy Scout's pocket knife. The doctor handed the loud little ball of life to her mother, "Congratulations. Do you know what you want to call her?" The woman held her baby tight. The entire trip she'd been searching for a name. But she realized the only name that would fit would be the name of the home she had run from, "Odessa." She said quietly.
The Other Vial of Sand...
Sixteen clear boxes of labeled sand. They were relegated to the family room shelf for display, clumsily inscribed in her husband’s bland printing. In her separate bedroom, she had her treasures, it wasn’t the gems, the jewelry, or the rings, but it was the sand of southern Utah that she would remember and treasure because of him… a different him.
They had met at college – a friend of a friend. Soon they were more than that, much more. The school year was ending, and she had convinced him to join her for a month-long, transcontinental road trip. He loved to drive; she had the car and her mother’s financial backing. His mom didn’t like the idea, but hers did.
His mom had moral problems with the arrangement, and worried about unplanned pregnancies.
Her mom appreciated the security that the young man would provide her daughter on the cross-country trip that would culminate at her son’s home in northern Florida.
The trip started out great. It was the best trip she’d ever take despite the lack of glamour.
They drove to the Grand Canyon, camped there for four days, and made a three-day hike into the canyon. Together they saw Phantom Ranch located on the river’s edge where they ate over-priced five-dollar peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Hiking out, they ventured off the main trail to Ribbon Falls. They drank in the beauty, and they showered together in the falls.
From the North Rim, the plan was to drive north through Kanab to Utah’s Zion and Bryce canyons before heading east. But on the way, they took an unplanned side trip to the Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park. It was nearly deserted, and they took advantage.
Salmon was her favorite color. This was what she would call her “salmon colored summer.”
The vial of soft, wind blown, pink coral sand that she kept in her jewelry box was like a magic lamp, providing a gateway to pleasant memories, to another time, to another place, and to another man.
Ahhh… that was the best part… a different man… the man of the salmon-colored summer, not the man of sixteen clear boxes of labeled sand.
It was the sand of the Mediterrean that she would remeber because when she entered Israel it truly feltlike a police state.
She was surprised to see th beauty of the ocean breeze and the people at the beach seemed to have no worries. She let her guard down and enjoyed the scenery.
It was the sand of the Bahamas that he would remember because that is where her daughter dissappeared. In all the good intentions she had of passing on her love of travelling to new places on to her daughter she never thought that that love would cost her so much. The idea of her one hobby she really enjoyed being the instrument to take the one person she loved from her life just gutted her. She would never enjoy a sandy beach quite they way she had before.
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