Growing Up As A Girl Child in America: Part 10
A lifelong love of the water and sea creatures
One of my earliest memories is running into the surf at Pismo Beach in central California and being knocked down by a mountainous California wave.
I staggered to my feet and waddled to my grandmother and grandfather, relaxing in their beach chairs, working on their legendary tans.
My bathing suit bottom was heavy with a beach pail full of gritty sand.
And I was laughing with joy.
After Nana helped me brush the sand away, I’d take my small shovel and dig tirelessly for clams. Their spouts sank as quickly as I’d dig. They always seemed to be just beyond my reach.
I’d tire of digging clams and run down the beach to the tidepools, trying to balance between the rocks, peering into the small pools of seagrass, seaweed, and magical creatures.
Sea anemones to put your finger in. They’d close tight and squeeze. Tiny surf crabs. Pretty orange and purple starfish. Some were a fat coral-colored circle surrounded by countless small legs. Others were the traditional starfish-shape.
When I picked them up I saw hundreds of tiny sticky feet under each arm.
