Rayne Hicks, 10, "Red Solo Cup"

This beach, unnamed, maybe named, sat in a private corner where the passion of the Pacific Ocean embraced and collided with unchanging rocks and pale sands. The sands welcomed a foot ardently, providing a soft, heated cushion for any lone wanderer. Oftentimes, however, the footprint of even one stranger was a rare sighting. The citizens of the nearby town kept their distance as the currents of the water tended to tug the unfortunate far out to sea. The rocks only sealed their fate. Her dad brought the family here back when they were like a stock image. All smiles and a dog. She’d pranced around the beach playing with her siblings while her dad played “Red Solo Cup” on repeat. Her father was the type of man to do that: play obscure music with a booming laugh and inviting smile. He would grab his own cup, embracing it comedically, and sing along, saying, “ believe me that I am not the least bit sarcastic, When I look at you and say, Red solo cup, you're not just a cup, You're my friend.” His charisma glued them together, and it was his charisma that she, as a young girl, copied. By the end of a day on the beach, she could’ve performed a one-woman Toby Keith show with the same booming laugh and inviting smile, and as the song placed the family under blissful elation, the memory seared into the sands and water. Today, she sat on the same sand at the same beach. She brought only herself and her speaker. Her family had abandoned their stock image glamor and divided into two households. Dad’s charisma got too ambitious. The memory on the beach, just like the beach’s usual visitors, now stood in solitude. Sitting in the sand, she placed her speaker nearby and played “Red Solo Cup.”

The voice thundered the same lyrics her dad once had. The song’s course swept by quickly, and the girl was once again in the sands in quiet solitude. There was no blissful elation, booming laughs, or siblings to play with. She didn’t sing along with the music and instead felt the beating of her own heavy heart as she realized the beach where she sat was a facade of the one she once knew.

Still, the beach’s wind embraced her, but she began to walk away, observing the water. She was a strong swimmer and thought of swimming, just for a while, just to be, for a moment, consumed. However, she decided against it, not wanting to be pulled further from safety than she already was. Her thoughts quieted, and she celebrated the beauty of the beach that she did once know. The alluring, dangerous crashes and the hum of the wind-carried sand filled her ears. Its beauty, however, was no longer hers. Leaving the speaker behind, she departed, unlikely to return, and walked back to the town where her mother sat waiting for her.