Who am I? Memory 2. The Beach.

My mom's hand is in mine. 
Or rather, mine is in her's. Because mine was a lot smaller.
The sun is setting. 
"Look, it's a Lion King sun." 
"Yes, Maren, it is. It's a San Diego sunset." 
There's a fire going on to the left of us. Teenagers hanging out at the beach. They are laughing and their hot dogs smell amazing. 
I see people in love. 
I'm only 3, but I want that. 
I imagine what it will be like to be in love. I imagine having a family and a home and having someone look at me just. like. that. 
My mom pulls me closer to the water. We stand there, hand in hand. 
"Dig your feet deep in to the sand." 
There's sand in between my toes and on top of my feet. I push them in a little further.
"On the count 3, jump back out of it." 
I nod and giggle.
1
2
3
We jump. 
"Now watch." 
I stare at my feet. They're so little compared to my mom's. 
A wave comes up and washes them away. 
My feet are gone. 
I'm no longer a part of the sand. 
I'm no longer a part of the beach. 
I laugh and we do it again and again as the sun sets. 


Years later.
I'm standing on the same beach. 
I dig my feet deep in to the sand as the sun sets with that beautiful Lion King sun. 
I jump back and watch the waves wash my only mark on the earth away. 
"You coming, Maren?" They have no idea what they are making me walk away from.
"Yeah." 
I walk away.
Maybe one day I, too, will show my daughter how easily washed away our mark on the earth is.