I could hear their voices. Shouting at each other. Yelling at each other. Not caring about what the other one had to say. Their voices were loud but muffled, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I didn’t want to hear what they were saying. I pretended it was a nightmare; I hoped it was a nightmare. I stared into the darkness of my room and tried to concentrate on an ocean. I imagined its waves crashing into the shore, but then calmly pulling back into the ocean. It was loud and jarring when the waves came in, but then, quietly, as if nothing had happened, they withdrew and fled back. I wish my parents would do that. I wish more than anything, that they could put aside their differences. 

That was last March, but now it had been almost a year since then. My parents had stopped living together, my brother and I started arguing more often, and I hadn’t seen most of my best friends because we went to different schools. That time was not exactly a joyful time for me, and that was when I knew I needed a break. A vacation.   

Spring break was coming up and I knew it would be a good time to take a vacation. After my Bat Mitzvah, my grandma had told me that she would take me anywhere in the world as a Bat Mitzvah gift. I decided to travel to Spain because even though it would be hard because of the different language, I wanted to go somewhere that was nothing like where I lived. I didn’t want the country to have the same language, culture, food, or way of life as I did, so I decided that Spain would be perfect. 

I remember stepping off of the plane and feeling excited and nervous because my vacation fantasy was coming true, and I was in a different country. As I stepped into the airport, I was overpowered by the sound of Spanish. The airport was slightly warm because of all of the people packed in. I had never seen an airport with that many people. The airport had extremely tall ceilings just like the airports in the United States, but this was not an ordinary ceiling. Instead of a flat, white ceiling, I was looking up at a wavy, yellow ceiling. I immediately thought of waves in the ocean because these very closely replicated waves. I remember my grandma and me trying to find our way around the airport. It was not as difficult as I had assumed because most of the signs had English translation underneath. I kept thinking about how in the United States our signs were only in English and how hard it would be to come to America and not speak English. Seeing the signs with English calmed my nerves, and I started thinking about the endless fun waiting for us.

Now, even though it has been two years since that vacation, I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the smell of saltwater in the air and the cool breeze against my face. As we walked along the beach I remember looking over at her. Back then she was taller than I was by about three inches, and beat me in age by 58 years. Although she was 71, she looked 50. She had short red and blond hair that was stuck straight up with hair gel. She smelled like lavender and as fresh as clean laundry. She was always smiling and making me laugh.  
We walked along the beach standing real close to the water and then running away, trying not to let the water touch our feet as the waves rolled in. Even though the water was freezing and there was a cool breeze, I was having too much fun to be bothered by the cold. The sun was starting to set behind the few clouds and was streaking beautiful pinks, oranges, and purples across the sky. We started looking for interesting colored and shaped seashells, and soon were carrying a huge collection of them. We sat down on a massive rock and listened to the calming sound of the waves crashing against the sand and then retreating back to the sea. I was relaxed and felt carefree, like nothing was holding me down. I was happy there.

It took me awhile after that trip to realize why I was so cheerful. At first I thought it was because I was with my grandma, but even though I loved spending time with her, that wasn’t it. I had found my ocean. I had figured out how to stay calm while everyone around me was crashing and clashing. As I recalled this vacation, I lay in my bed listening to the quiet of the house. I pictured an ocean again. This ocean was different though. When the waves rolled in they didn’t crash, they smoothly flowed up the shore, and then calmly sank back. The ocean had changed. My ocean had changed. When my parents had recently stopped living together I couldn’t stop thinking about all of the family vacations and family game nights that we would no longer have. I wished more than anything that my parents would start living together again, but I realized that if they got back together they would probably just argue and wouldn’t get along anyways. At first I thought it was terrible that my ocean changed, but now I know it was for the best.