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• Eliza Deane, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2022

Breathing in the fresh, salty air, all I can think about is one word. Home. At last. Pulling back my curly brunette hair, I dive under the rolling waves. The deep water feels as familiar to me as turning on a light switch - something I do so often that I don’t think about it. Now, the only thing I can smell is the saltiness of the water, and the only thing I can hear is the crashing of the waves and the echo of my cousin's laughter as I turn my head to breathe. Here, all my worries vanish as my body sets into the familiar steady routine. Bubble, Bubble, Breathe. I forget about Mum and Dad’s screams and fights. That now they are divorced, we might not come back to holiday at Bells beach, my favorite place in the whole world. That, according to Dad, coming back to Bells beach next summer and sharing a room together with Mum in a squishy house will be ‘awkward’ and ‘uncomfortable’ now. That, while all my cousin’s will be having a great time next year, swimming and surfing here, I’ll be stuck at home. Bubble, Bubble, Breathe! I pull myself out of the water and join my cousins playing cricket. I know that I have to hang on to these last few moments here.



As I walk across the usually blistering hot sand - now nice and cool in the evening, I take in the beautiful sunset view stretching over the ocean for my last swim in Bell’s Beach, for what will probably be years. The mellow sky is filled with a hundred colors and shades - golden yellow, burning, fiery, red, deep, royal, purple and little patches of pink. I stare out at the endless, vast, serene water and think, “Is there really something more beautiful than this?” I feel tears welling up in my eyes and I know I’m going to miss this place. The fun with my cousins. How crowded but fun our beach house is. Playing cricket. Looking at the views. Surfing. The ocean and of course swimming.
I amble down to the water, taking my time and letting my feet sink down into the sand. My sadness turns into deep rage that gripps me and flows through me like lava. It just isn’t fair that I can’t come back again! What was life without looking forward to Bell’s beach? Miserable! Horrible! Unbearable! I wouldn’t be able to live! But just as I thought that anger had eaten me all up, I noticed a pretty painted shell half submerged in the sand. I picked it up.

Be Happy,
Be Kind,
Be Strong,
Be You!
You only have one life.
In Loving Memory: Emily Smith


As I read it, my heart swelled. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic. If Mum and Dad didn’t feel comfortable coming back here next year, that was fine. Because no matter what, I would still have memories of this lovely place that I called home.