When I was young at the bay, I would go on night walks watching frogs hopping around like little jumping beans, or snakes slithering into bushes thinking we were predators, like shadows in the night. We would shine our flashlights in the water looking at fish and crayfish, or when it was dark enough we would sit on the jagged rocks trying to find a comfortable spot like puzzle pieces to look up at the stars. In the day when it was hot, we would run through the hot sand, the grains like tiny coal pieces, to get to the water first. I remember the hot sand getting stuck between my toes like little pine needles as I ran, or the splash of the cold and refreshing and relaxing water hitting me like a cool embrace as I ran through the water to get deep enough to jump in. I remember seeing who could hold their breath the longest, my parents always won but my brother and I kept trying, saying “You’re just getting lucky!”

When I was young at the bay, I would see all the different beaches like rocky beaches that felt cool and rigid and spiky, like a giant stone's edge. The sandy beaches were warm and ticklish and everywhere, like a soft blanket spread out under the sun. I could feel the fish as they nibbled my legs like little invisible hands or the water being cold, refreshing, and incredibly clear, splashing around and getting water in my eyes, mouth, and ears like an unexpected surprise. I remember me and my family laughing as we played tag trying to get away so we didn’t get tagged, laughing so hard I swallowed a little water like a fish taking a gulp of air. I remember shrieking when seaweed touched my feet, it felt mushy, slimy, and alive, like something straight out of a nightmare. We would play board games on a towel before we went in the water, I kept asking when we could go in the water, like when a little kid gets impatient for candy. I remember laying in the warm sand on a towel drying off by the hot sun, burying my dad or brother in the sand, building sand castles like tiny fortresses, or making holes in the sand trying to keep the water enclosed like little moats.

When I was young at the bay, every time we got to the beach I was always so excited, like a dog seeing its favourite toy, because I loved the water so much. Going there always made my day and will always, like a gift that keeps on giving. I was always so curious about the fish, trying to catch them like a little fisherman. When we played games, I was so excited and happy and confident, like a warrior on a mission. When I touched seaweed, I was so scared I thought a big fish or shark was going to eat me, like a dragon coming out of the dark. In the deep water I was so nervous and because I thought I was going to get eaten alive by some giant, ferocious, fierce beast, like the bay itself was plotting against me. But even though I was scared of that, I was always so sad to leave, like it would be my last encounter with water.

At the bay I always remember when my family and I would race across the hot, ticklish, wet sand to see who could jump into the cold, refreshing, relaxing water first, like we were in a real race competing to get to the finish line. We would go around on our stand-up paddle board or a canoe that we rented for the day, visiting spotted fish, birds, snakes, turtles, and people on boats or on their deck at their cottages, like characters in a movie scene. The bugs kept attacking! Mosquitoes, horse flies, deer flies, we would fling water at them or yell at each other' to “DUCK!” like soldiers on a battlefield, even though it was war between us and the bugs, I really enjoyed our time at the bay and will continue to enjoy it, a favourite memory I will never let go.