First Sight

Most of my family lives in Connecticut, and some live only fifteen minutes away from the ocean in Rhode Island. My aunt continues to hype up the beauty of the sight of the ocean. I’ve never seen it, but I’m not convinced it can be more beautiful than Lake Winnipesaukee. I’ve grown up going to lakes I can see the other side of so I’m convinced the ocean won’t be that cool. As we approach the ocean I can see it from miles away. It's almost as if it's an infinite source of water. I don’t think it ends. I can't see another piece of land. As I slowly submerge myself into the water the waves crash against me causing the water to come up, and splash me in the face. The second I go under I try to open my eyes, and immediately, a burning sensation electrifies my eyes and I’m immediately in shock. I sprint for the beach not realizing what has just burned my eyes. 

Eventually I figure out why they call it salt water, and that the salt in the water is why my eyes are burning. I settle down into my chair and just admire the ocean. I’m shocked by the everlasting beauty of blue, but it’s not like Lake Winnipesaukee beauty; it’s a different kind of beauty: the beauty that you think can’t get any better. Until–the sun sets and the sky turns purple, and you just sit there. It doesn’t even feel like you're on earth anymore; it feels like you’ve been brought to some strange planet millions of miles away from earth. As you gaze into the sky, scrunching your toes into the cold sand, it feels like you start to zone away from everything and everyone surrounding you.