Laur's Blog, Volume 11: Accidental Metamorphosis

Life Jackets

A mother and her two boys prepare to head home from the beach in the car next to me. The mother clangs Crocs together, shaking sand off her son's shoes as he changes in the truck. Across the rocks by the water, a boy sets up his lounge chair. He takes out his phone and snaps a photo of the boats across from him.

I wish life could remain simple. I wish innocence weren’t a construct. 

The boy’s father puts a life jacket on him before grabbing a cooler from the car. He sets out on the water to join his brother.

I wish not just to notice, but to experience. Though both actions are arts. I wish to set out for the sea, with the reassurance of a life jacket to brace each fall. I wish to live normally, to have been a kid with no fears; to have had a sense of safety to fall back on. 

Cushions of Comfort

From an early age, I knew I had to be careful. I learned quickly that movement carried consequences. I knew that even a life jacket, a cushion of comfort, would hardly support me. I knew that if I ended up in deep water, I would have to keep myself afloat.

The boys’ mother has now joined them. They snack and pack up for the day. The boys take off their life jackets, their protection from the depths of the ocean. They plan on leaving soon, too. 

The road back home feels lonesome. I am cleared to go, but I am not ready yet. I watch a kite soar from one of the boats ahead. I think of the sudden brief moments where life felt simple, normal even. When I had thought my surroundings were a cushion of comfort. When there were life jackets, people to fall back on. However, that never lasted long. In the blink of an eye, the illusion of innocence unraveled. I was left astray, forced to fend for myself, on my own.

Sometimes I want to freeze what I observe in time. I wish every kid wore a life jacket. I wish parents never took these moments for granted. I wish innocence weren’t a construct. I wish I didn’t have to save myself. I wish I never grew up.