Memories permeate my mind as I visualize the striking summers of Long Island’s shores. A vivid picture emerges with me seated in the backseat of my dad’s gray pickup truck, listening to and singing along to music. My dad’s hands tap on the steering wheel to the beat while my mom sings along, a twang in her voice. The window is down, allowing the refreshing breeze to tickle my skin as it passes through. I gaze ahead at the vast and seemingly infinite highway. 

Eventually, we reach Dune Road, a street surrounded by various houses; some large mansions, some quaint cottages. Each home has unique qualities, particularly the white one with a dome-shaped roof mimicking a lighthouse. However, I imagine what the land looked like before the houses – when it was barren with animals meandering along the grounds neighbored by glistening water. 

Our car continues to cruise down the road until we are greeted into a congested parking lot by a blue sign that states “Cupsogue Beach” in bold white letters. After a few minutes of slowly driving around the expansive lot, we park. I immediately open the door enthusiastically to welcome a rush of hot air surging through my body. A salty aroma infiltrates the air and creeps up my nose as I wait impatiently for my parents to unpack our items from the truck bed. When they are ready, we begin walking toward the beach with chairs in our hands. While I stroll down the wooden boardwalk, soreness emanates in my body as the sweltering heat melts off the sunscreen on my skin. Once the waves and golden sand come into view, I squeal with exhilaration and dart onto the sand. As I come to a halt, the microscopic grains encase my feet, but flaring pain suddenly strikes me as the sand overwhelmingly scorches my toes and shoots up to my ankles. I wince, but the burning eventually dwindles as I continue to sprint across the smooth sand, wanting to avoid the sensation of standing stagnantly on flames.

My parents place our items down as I look ahead at the white foam of the water crashing onto the shore, waves roaring along with the whistling of the brisk winds. The sun beams down on the blue water, kindling a scintillating reflection. Kids dive into it, splashing their arms around as they laugh and squeal with ecstasy while seagulls squawk boisterously in the air. I rush onto the darker, gray sand that borders the salty sea, which is much colder than the plane of gold as it has an odd texture similar to slush. Water suddenly charges up the sand and trickles over my feet with a refreshing feeling. A chill gradually overcomes me as I sprint deeper into the water. As a new wave begins to form, fluttering anxiety and excitement arises in my stomach since it is larger than the ones before. As the water engulfs my body, pressure abruptly pushes me down to the ocean’s bottom, and I flip onto the shore, the sand grazing my back. Although it was rather alarming, I somehow found it to be amusing, craving to do it again. 

I remain in the water for another hour, swimming around like a fish. As I exit the water, my parents inform me that it is time to go home. Although I feel saddened to depart the shores of Cupsogue Beach, I am aware that there will be other times I can revisit.

Thus, I did experience the hour-long car ride, the enormous waves, and the scorching sand multiple times after the first. Summertime 2016: how quickly the years have passed since then as I once was a peppy ten-year-old and now am on the verge of turning sixteen. These joyous memories of the shores of Long Island are cherished deeply in my heart as they are etched in the sand everlastingly.