Waves Of Life

• Enrico Dela Rosa, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2010

On the beach, the waves push and pull. From the salty scent of the sea breeze on the ocean banks I could see in the distance how the waves slowly rise, and once it has reached the shore they tumble and crash at my feet, the water running through my toes. Afterwards, with ease it recedes toward the far-stretching ocean. It is an everlasting cycle. Push, and pull; push, and pull.
It is like life.

In life, we push and pull. Each and every ray of sunlight we rise to is a new day; a new beginning. Each second, to survive we must push forward, and we find our strength to do so through pulling on the rope of persistence. At times our pushing and pulling is gentle and serene, in other times rough and brutal – the waves may be quiet, or restless. And every night that we lay down to rest, it is only the end of a page in our life; one single turn and another page is revealed.
It is a cycle which never ends, and through the sands of time it continues onward from generation to generation. The ocean tides may be tranquil or violent, but never still, never silent. Not yet, at least.
It is like my life.

In my life, there are days where the pushing and pulling is effortless, and there are days where it is filled with sheer difficulty; yet I persist. I have been persisting all my life. My world is seen from this beach to the ocean beyond, and its waves which constantly push and pull embody this life of mine…all relentless.

I now find myself here, sitting on the soft sand of a lonely coast, with no one else in sight, watching the cool colours of the twilight. My waves tonight will be gentle and quiet, for there is not a single thought in my mind which troubles me. But neither tomorrow’s night nor any nights soon to come will I find my waves still and silent; it isn’t time, not yet.

I reminisce on my distant past: all the mistakes which I had done and all the lessons I had learned; all the friends which I had made and the families I kept dear; all the places that I had discovered and all the communities I resided in…have shaped me into who and what I am now. The soul beneath this very skin is not perfect, and it never will, but it has tried to the best of its ability to be so.

If my time comes, when I do take my last breath, I will leave my coast, my world in consolation that I, through all my faults and imperfections, will be proud of myself for who I was in the past, and who I am to be remembered as in the future to come.

For now, I have excelled, and although it isn’t enough I have never felt more content, more bliss in myself.