Tiffany Palumbo

tucked my face into my shoulder and waited for the water to recede. When the first wave hit, my parents were nearly knocked off their feet. When my head slipped under, my father leapt out of the waistdeep water and bounded from rock to rock until he reached me. Now laden with water, his button-up t-shirt stuck to his swollen gut, his dad jeans sagged and threatened to fall, his Nikes squished with each step.

From his perch on the rocks, he could see me holding my rock, my hair swirling with the ocean’s current like thin brown kelp. He reached into the water and grabbed my jacket collar. He tried to pull me out of the water, but the adrenaline that flooded my body made me stronger than him now.

Eventually, the wave retreated, and my father pulled me up to him. I fought him at first. My body realized I was out of the water, and took in greedy gulps of the air, but my brain was still stuck in the sucking, swirling pool.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” He wrapped his arms around me tighter than I liked. My mother ran up to me, my infant brother bouncing on her hip and looking just as worried as she. I was confused by his statement and tried to reason his reassurance with my experience. But I saved myself...