The Ocean
Purdue Employees Federal Credit Union Award for Creative Nonfiction essay (U/G)
Maybe it was my first time to the beach, or the second time. I was just a little kid, and the memory of the ocean is vague. Was it an ocean abroad? Was it a trip with my father’s colleagues? Just like an unpleasant dream that recurs in my mind—a cloudy day on an empty beach, so dark and gloomy. The only thing that goes on and on in my mind is the scene that my mom and dad were swimming away from me, and I was sitting on the beach, weak, shouting and weeping, nearly faint. I was worried to death; even though my mom was sitting on a swim ring pushed by my dad, since my mom didn’t know how to swim. The waves seemed tremendous to me, even colossal compared to my parents. They were at the shoulder of the waves sometimes, and there were times that they were out of my sight, hidden in the wave tube. And my tiny little heart jumped up and down in my throat with the uneven rhyme of the vivid carmine swim ring and my mom’s olive swimsuit. My dad looked so pale in the water, but it was still hard for me to find them through those waves. They brought my parents back to the shore a little bit, then suddenly appeared far away, almost at the edge of the ocean and sky. I reached out, but my arm was locked to myself; not a bit strength to even lift my hands up, since I worn out all my mind and strength to yield out.
The ocean turned grey inch by inch, and the wave became wilder and wilder, which drove me to think that I might lose them forever. I screamed even harder to call them back. However, my voice was covered by the roar of the ocean, then my throat was too tight to make a sound. I felt extremely fatigued but didn't want to give up. I fixed my eyes to my dad who was waving his arm to me. A burst of slight pleasure went through my body, but was soon gone with the lunatic wave. He was always a thrill seeker I thought. That made me even more desperate, hating him for doing all this to me, to my mom, and to himself. Hot tears made my sight even more blurred, burning my face. And it went dark and blended to the darkest part in my memory. I never recalled to what happened next. I can only taste the tears overwhelming me like those huge waves, and anguished by the illusion of being left alone in this perplexed world without kissing dad and mom goodbye.
Memory stopped here. I speed up the treadmill at gym, fleeing, attempting to cast all these pains and sorrow behind me, but I failed. I gradually rise up my head, trying to pretend that I was just sweating but hot tears well up. All these flashbacks about the ocean as most miserable piece of memory to me are brought by my dad’s short message. Recalling the memory of the ocean just makes me exhausted. So I slow down the treadmill and step down. Turing around, I’m not surprised that I am the only student in the gym; the only one in this particular day. On October 7th, the last day of the seven-day-off National Holiday, when every other freshman is enjoying the first family reunion in college, I am alone at school, running away from home. I ran away from home and living in the dorm alone for these days, because I had just initiated a huge fight with my mom at the first day I went home, for insisting on hanging out with some male high school classmates late at night. I considered myself a grown-up for already being a college student, who was the best student in my college. Yet my mom still seemed not satisfied with my achievements and had been extremely unreasonable on whether I should have my freedom of going out. I said to her, “I had to go, cuz every one else is going. Why are you always like this? My going out or not shouldn’t be bothering you. It’s my life.” I thought of her disapproval as mood swings, and what she responded encouraged my thought. “Is this how you treat your parents? Look at you, it’s the first semester of college and you are going out with guys, what will you do when you are in junior or senior? Are you going to just leave and never come back? Sounds much more fun out there than home, right? If you ever, EVER, step out one foot, you shall never come back again!” She said. I felt so disappointed at her, she was just being so irrational that she only thought about herself. I couldn’t stand her “selfishness” and wanted to challenge her so that I could let her know, she was wrong. Then I carried my luggage that wasn’t open yet, and left home immediately. When I hid in my dorm after left home that day, I felt so relieved. I’d never know it was actually a punishment to myself. I haven’t spoken to her since the fight, and this time my father is mad at me as well, which seldom happened in the past. He was always on my side. This makes me even more rebellious against apologize to her, not to mention to go back home now. I think about the way she refused my going out and told me to never come back if I left without permission; I just go nuts. It is really hurtful to not be understood that I urged to be relieved and enjoy the unrestrained college lifestyle.
Since I am not at home I should feel pleasant. However I am not, because just now, I got my dad’s message, longest ever. Seeing myself in the mirror, it is reflecting the lonely me, with tears drifting down my face. It said, “I ran myself ragged to chill out from what you did to me and your mom that night, but I failed. Don’t you feel a little bit ashamed of what you have done so far? Do you ever know that what you did profoundly disappointed us? Do you ever going to remember that your mom cooked for you every morning when you were in high school? Do you think she enjoys so much to get up at five a.m. and cook? And it was whom that prepared for your new semester to school, couldn't sleep well every night then worried sick that you might be uncomfortable there. Did you ever appreciate any of this? Did you ever think that there is a possibility that she loves you and it is the only reason for her to sacrifice everything? This is the beginning of your being exposed to the complex world, and the only thing we are able to do now is concerned, because we are not going to be around you any more as what we did when you were in high school. Nevertheless, you treat our worries as the reason that makes us your enemy to the so-called freedom that you want so badly. Remember you wailed at the beach, your mom and I swam together to the deep ocean when you were just a little girl? I can’t tell you how touched we were by what you did at that moment. I just can’t see you need us like that anymore, which really broke our heart.”
I can almost see his depressed face while reading. Then I run to the restroom and cry out loud. There is no irritation or recalcitrance any more, only regrets left. I didn’t understand why I never got over with such a strong feeling about what happened on the beach at that time. And I thought it was only me who suffered from the bad memory, and no one other than me even bothered to remember that, not even my parents. Suddenly I realized how terrible and irresponsible I was when I imprudently left home without any contact. Truth is that it was me who was not aware of the love, not them; it was me who misunderstood my parents and their selfless love. I was to be blame for all the conflicts. In the restroom, I’d never found myself missing them that much.
Their love to me is just like the ocean, though there was fear to the mystery and power; it is always transparent to see the endless love, floating in the soft blue water. I might get choked by the salty water, nevertheless it makes me a better swimmer. I might feel isolated there alone, but there is always deep love surrounding me. Nothing makes me more secure in the ocean of everlasting love and devotion and there is nothing like the ocean that could portray their feelings towards their children in such a humble way.
Walking out of the restroom, I spot my mom waiting at the sofa at the gym, to take me home.
