BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS ZOË BEAUMONT Marty

WHAT MAKES US WHO WE ARE ? Is it the experiences we have, the people we surround ourselves with, or is it simply the genetics with which we are born? While a geneticist may argue that we are simply the expression of our DNA – something fixed, irreversible and hereditary – I believe that our past experiences help shape us into the people we are today. Whether negative or positive they have a profound impact on the way we view our life, and the choices we make. The memory that I believe truly made me the person I am today, was formed during my childhood sailing trips.

Ever since my dad was a child himself, he had a passion for sailing, and after growing up sailing with his father, he was excited to share this important aspect of this part of his life with my mother and a family of his own. As a consequence, I grew up sitting on the bow of our boat in storms, getting splashed by waves as we rocked up and down. I grew up eating sweets from striped paper bags in seaside towns and getting fresh Chelsea buns from bakeries in the mornings. It was during these holidays I was taught how to sail, play cards and fish – skills that I now value deeply. Despite my occasional bouts of seasickness and my mum’s hatred of mess and confined spaces, they were in the end some of the best holidays I have ever been on.

It was a warm evening in the summer, the kind that makes you want to lie in a field and watch the sunset, and we had decided to go on a walk. The small island of Herm enchanted us as we passed on our boat, to the extent that we just had to see it – something about the isolation from civilization was enticing and irresistible. The rocky cliffs were iced with green grass and the trees clustered together, as if hiding a magical fairy forest. It was the perfect place.

Hopping off the dinghy onto the grass, we began our walk. It had barely been two minutes when my eye was caught by some curious holes set into the grass verge alongside the path. Dirt had been discarded nearby, marring the pristine view of the bay. I had just turned seven, the age when you start to cultivate your natural curiosity about the world around you, and the closest source of answers were your parents. Everything was a new wonder to me, a mystery to be solved. Now that I am older, I haven’t lost my enjoyment of learning. Knowledge is something I hoard and treasure – quite like a dragon – and it seems to never be enough. The exhilarating feeling of understanding a new concept or learning about a new animal never ceases to amaze me. And so, instinctively I asked my dad what the holes were. Watching his eyes light up with excitement I knew this was something he was an expert on.

According to him, the holes in the ground were the result of a herm, an elusive animal that migrated to the island thousands of years ago. They somewhat resembled beavers, with short legs and flat tails – perfect for swimming from the mainland with. They spin their tails like propellers, allowing them to swim. He paused and began to make wild swinging motions with his arms to imitate their tails. I giggled loudly with delight and smiled; he looked really stupid.

Some of the dog walkers on the path even looked over with curiosity and concern at the strange sight. I wondered if we’d see one, such a strange and foreign creature would make an interesting story to tell my friends.

It was at this point my mum chimed in. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to see one, as they were solely nocturnal creatures. I nodded in understanding. It made sense. If I were a herm, I would absolutely avoid people. “And they only eat glow worms,” she continued. This particularly fascinated me; icky gross facts were the peak of comedy, and after being introduced to National Geographic I had a profound interest in weird animals. To my astonishment, my mum explained how, due to their unusual diet, they glowed in the dark! That was it. I decided that I just had to see one for myself.

Reaching the town we passed by some ancient oil lamps – the ambient lighting, creating a cozy inviting atmosphere, cast warm shadows on the village shops. Pointing to the lamps, my mum explained that while their original purpose was to burn oil, the inhabitants of the village decided to use them to hold herms and utilize their natural light. “A cheaper source of light,” she quoted. I pictured the strange sight in my mind – herms running around in little cages on stalks, their eerie glow lighting up the village. I definitely preferred the new warm light to their strange green glow.

“They had six legs as well, making them really fast,” my dad interrupted. “And small white wings,” he exclaimed. It was at this point that the magic broke. I stopped in my tracks.

“Why would they swim to the mainland if they had wings?” I questioned suspiciously. The jig was up; they’d been rumbled. You could see it in their faces as they burst into laughter. Honestly, I was surprised that it took me that long to figure it out. In hindsight, the holes were probably rabbit burrows. I began to laugh with them – definitely causing a scene. But we didn’t care. Instead, we continued to walk and talk across the island. To others it probably looked like three children were laughing and bumping into each other on the horizon, walking into the sunrise.

Looking back on this moment, there were clearly lots of inaccuracies in the story, along with several obvious contradictions. But I was naïve and young, believing every word my parents said. I feel that I brought out a little of their inner child that day and even if a piece of me had realised that they were pulling my leg, the enjoyment of seeing how excited they were far outweighed it.

I think back a lot to that walk across the island, and I have arrived at the conclusion that it is one of my golden memories, something that shaped me as a person. The ability to be completely comfortable with an individual, to make fun of them and seamlessly weave stories together with someone you love is something I greatly admire in my parents’ relationship. The love my parents had for me, and the love they had for my family is represented in the efforts they put into my childhood to make it the most magical time of my life. It’s truly inspiring and pushes me to follow a similar path in life. Living in moments of magic and companionship, I hope to learn to inspire others the way that my parents have inspired me. The little memories that I have with them are testament enough to the kind of person I want to be. They are what make me who I am.