Chapter Nine

It’s not till the third day of our vacation that we finally make it to the beach. I could hardly sleep the night before in anticipation of my first seaside experience.

“Are you excited, Mom?” I whisper to her in the morning after the alarm clock rings. It’s super early. So early that it’s still dark outside. We’re in the same time zone as Chicago, so it’s probably still dark at home, too. I bet Jenny, Linda, and Biscuit are still asleep. The fact that the sun isn’t up yet doesn’t matter to me. I’m ready to get our day started.

“Of course. I love the beach,” she says, yawning. “I can’t wait to share it with you.”

We packed up the car the night before so we’re able to hit the road right away after some papaya and breakfast tamales. Maria drives the car since she knows the way. Mom and I sit in the back seat while Nick drags himself in a sleepy daze to the front seat. His legs are getting too long for the back. He falls asleep right away.

After an hour the sun finally rises. “Only three more hours,” I exclaim.

Now, four hours in the car can seem like a long time normally, but when you’ve been waiting your whole life to see the ocean, it’s nada!

I try reading to make the time pass by, but I get queasy on the winding roads. Thankfully, Mom opens the window to make me feel better. She also reads aloud from a Sylvia Earle biography to distract me. The combination of her soothing voice and the cool breeze helps me feel nearly perfect.

“She’s a fascinating woman!” Mom says, holding the book in her lap. Turns out, Sylvia Earle founded something called Hope Spots around the world through her organization Mission Blue. These are spots where no fishing or drilling is permitted. The idea is they can help preserve the oceans and offset some of the pollution.

As we get closer to the beach, the air begins to smell salty. It’s more noticeable than I ever imagined. Though I’m surprised, it makes sense. The amount of salt in the oceans could cover the whole planet fifty meters deep.

On the horizon, I see a little strip of blue. At first, I think the blue might be the sky, but it shimmers. When I’m sure, I shout with delight, “¡El océano!”

“Calm down, kiddo, it’s still early,” Nick groans, shifting around the front seat.

“Which ocean is it?” I whisper to Mom, ignoring Nick.

“El Pacífico. You know, you’ve been here before.”

“Really?” I reply, confused.

“You saw it when I was pregnant with you.”

“That doesn’t count. I was in there,” I say, pointing to her belly.

“¡Claro que cuenta!” She wraps her arms around me.

The strip of blue grows and grows on the horizon as we get closer. Finally, Maria pulls the car into the hotel parking lot.

As soon as we are parked, we walk through the hotel. Mom and Maria want to look around the lobby, but all I want to do is go outside. I tug at Mom’s arm impatiently.

“Okay, okay,” Mom replies.

When we finally reach outdoors, I dart toward the beach. I rip off my sandals. The warm sand feels cozy under my toes. Then I stop. Staring face-to-face with the ocean for the first time, I’m speechless. It’s huge! And lovelier than I ever imagined. Now I understand why people dedicate their entire lives to studying and protecting it.

I turn around. Everyone is happy, too. Even Nick is smiling. So much so, I can see all his teeth. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve seen him this happy.

Standing away from my family, I can fully see how much taller Nick has gotten. He is taller than both Mom and Maria! He turns fifteen soon, but it’s the first time I notice he doesn’t look like a kid.

“Nick, how do I get in?” I ask hesitantly. I love the ocean, but it’s so big and wide that it makes me feel nervous to jump in.

Nick chuckles.

“You’ve just got to put in one foot at a time.”

I cautiously walk up to the water while studying everything around me. There is an entire small world on the beach. There are shells that look just like the ones I’ve seen at the craft store. There are even itty-bitty hermit crabs scuttling around from spot to spot. As I get closer, I notice how the waves seem to say hola and adiós over and over. At first, I do almost a dance with the ocean. I walk toward the water when it goes “goodbye” and walk backward when the waves crash toward me saying “hi.” I do that a few times until I see other kids my age just run in. They look so happy and unafraid. I pump my fists and say, “I can do this.”

I finally move in each toe and wait for the next wave. I squeal with delight when the warm water rushes over my feet.

“See you’ve got it. Quick, try digging your feet in the sand before the next wave hits,” Nick says.

With my feet stuck in, the wave flows over. I feel as if the ocean is pulling me in. I scream and look at Nick. He’s in the same spot as before and so am I.

“We’re not moving!”

“Cool isn’t it?!” he replies, smiling.

I yell, “Mom come play with us.”

“Sí, sí, pero primero sunblock.”

Mom slathers us with sunscreen until our brown skin is chalky white and smells of coconuts. Then, with a nod of approval, the three of us run into the waves. It’s easier to be brave with them by my side. I put on my goggles to see if I can see anything in the magical blue world below. On my first try, I see nothing and instead inhale salty water. I don’t mind it one bit, although I do have to spit some water out. With some practice, I am able to catch a peek at a few tiny fishes and some seaweed.

“I want to do this all the time when I grow up,” I whisper to myself.

After a little while, Mom decides to join Maria under a hotel umbrella on the beach.

“Estoy cansada. Have fun!” Mom says as she walks away.

A little later, Nick and I get tired of swimming, too, so we go exploring the beach. I scan everything with my eyes so I don’t miss a thing. I spy seagulls and pelicans flying overhead. Over in the trees, I can see green birds with blue patches near their eyes and iguanas soaking in the sun. There are even coconut shells in the sand. Then we discover, tucked away, a sea turtle nest! I’ve never seen one before in my life, but I can recognize it from my books. The nest has nearly a hundred white eggs covered with sand. The eggs are white like the color of toothpaste and the size of Ping-Pong balls. Part of me wants to grab one, but even though there are lots of them, I don’t. As a new future Shedd summer camper, I know I mustn’t. It’s important to not disturb wildlife and never leave a trace. Plus, their Mom will miss them.

Standing near the nest is a scientist with red hair and freckles. At least I think he is a scientist, because he examines the eggs and places a sign around them.

“What are you doing?” asks Nick in Spanish.

“Just making sure the eggs are safe. We’re protecting them from people,” the man replies in Spanish, but with an American accent.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask in English.

“Of course!” he replies. He looks relieved to be speaking English. I can relate!

“Why do they need protection? I can’t imagine someone hurting them.”

“Well, once their mom digs a hole for the nest, she lays her eggs and then returns to the ocean. Before she leaves, she does her best to protect it from predators by covering up the nest with sand. The problem is many people travel on this beach. It can be hard to notice the nest, especially if you’re not paying attention. So I’m sure nobody means to hurt them, but sometimes people will accidentally trample on it with their feet or a vehicle. It’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m watching out for these little guys while learning more about them.”

I nod.

“I want to be a marine biologist,” I tell him.

“That’s great! Another person to care for our oceans!”

Suddenly I hear a new voice; it’s a girl about my age. She’s pulling her dad toward the sea turtles.

“Papá, mira. ¡Me encanta las tortugas!”

“Yo tambíen,” I reply, agreeing that I also love the sea turtles.

She speaks Spanish to me for a couple of minutes about the sea turtles. She does it at a normal pace so I’m able to understand her. Then she asks, “¿De dónde eres?”

I respond, “Soy de Chicago.”

“¡Qué triste!”

She then explains why she is sad. She hoped that I might be a local like her so we could become friends.

I nod and secretly grin. A new friend is great, but I’m just happy that she saw me as someone from Mexico, too. Maybe I belong more than I think. We say our goodbyes to each other and wish the turtles good luck.

“¡Buena suerte, bebés!”