The mild sun was just beginning to rise over the island. The reflecting sea glimmered on that early morning. Cold sand squished beneath my toes as I walked down the thin line between the dunes and the crest of the water. My over-sized sweatshirt kept me warm despite the cool air. Right next to my foot was a little red starfish. In front of me, I noticed that the beach was covered with these creatures. They must have been washed to the shore overnight. All that was on that beach was sand, starfish, and me. The house was about a mile behind me, but I wanted to keep walking. The summer was just fading away into autumn. Most of the tourists had already left the island, but it was my home. Not many other people lived here. The docks above me were abandoned from fisherman that once set their lines in hopes of bringing home dinner. The summer wouldn’t last forever. The Outer Banks were o-so-small, and most of the year was quiet.

Growing up, I knew most of the residents. One of them, Max, was my best friend. He was always with me; at least he used to always be with me. The two of us used to make wimpy sandcastles on the beach. I still remember his “bleach-blond” looking hair from the time when we were still drinking out of sippy-cups. I longed for the days when we used to ride our beach bikes to the lighthouse. The red brick spiraled up the structure all the way to the final stair. My memory was focused on the view of the bay with the same lighthouse that could be found on postcards that poked through the trees. When we were kids, we would take our old wooden canoe and gently sail from one side of the island to the other. Now, jet skis and speed boats sailed the murky waters. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that everything has changed.

Despite my depressing train of thought, I woke myself from my daydream. I had nothing in particular to do; nowhere in particular to go. I couldn’t possibly stress how much I missed my childhood.

I went to bed that night thinking of and remembering my younger days…


My eyes flew open at the sound of knocking on my door. That’s weird, I thought. I fell asleep at my house last night. The guest room had changed. It looked like it did when I was only 11 years old. Pale yellow and pink walls and bedding now explained the look of surprise on my face. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the room I fell asleep in.

I immediately hopped out of bed to find Jackson, the dog that was still alive when I was a child next to me. What’s wrong with me? Where am I? I ran to the mirror, expecting to see a tired, matured face. Instead, I saw my rounded cheeks and rosy spots right beneath my freckles. My wavy dirty-blond hair was tied in a French Braid down my back. I was a child.

Despite the fact that I was dressed for bed, I ran outside and looked around me. The original beach houses were in place of the over-sized monsters that I was used to. The newer, more technology-advanced cars were no where in sight. I slightly smiled to myself. Everything I could have possibly wanted had just happened.

I felt the urge to run to the person that comforted me the most. Running into my room again, I changed quickly into my jean shorts and large tee-shirt. Max’s house was just a few houses away, so I nearly sprinted to his front door step and rang the doorbell excitedly. Finally, his image appeared in the front window.

“Violently ringing my doorbell isn’t doing much for –“ he started before I ran up and hugged him.

“You’re back!” I yelled excitedly.

He looked puzzled; as if I had three heads.

“I never left,” he said in reply. “I saw you just yesterday. What’s wrong with you?”

I guess he doesn’t know that whatever is happening is not real, I thought to myself.

“Nothing,” I probably said too quickly. “I just felt as though I haven’t seen you in a while.”

What I said was not a lie (in real time, anyway). 10 years ago, Max moved to New York to fulfill his dreams of being a professional football player. I haven’t actually seen him since. We have talked on the phone, but other than that, I have no idea who or what he has become. Remembering the years of our youth was the only thing that I could grasp about him. Looking at him now made my head spin. It was like having a dream, or seeing someone that you thought had died.

Max, once again, said something that had woken me from my overwhelming thoughts.

“We should go to the festival today,” he said. “It’s on the other side of the island.”

“Alright, let’s go. I’ll get my bike,” I replied. And then we left.

The island was even more welcoming than I had imagined, or remembered is a better term. Instead of a maze of streets lined with massive houses, there were tiny summer houses that were constructed from the same materials as the rickety docks. The air was fresh and was filled with the scent of sea salt. I missed it the most now, which confused me, considering I was living my dream. I was just expecting it to end.

At last, our sandy bikes arrived at the festival. Ferris-wheels, merry—go-rounds, and other rides were aligned with the bay. We decided that the Ferris-wheel would be our first stop. Its wobbly structure would not have held the proper standards in 2010. Despite the fact that its wheel looked as though it could roll freely, the feeling it brought was comforting.

The view from the very top of the wheel held me in a trance. The sun was just beginning to set. A collage of reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows looked as though they were spread across a painter’s canvas. Once in a while, a heron would fly past in a quick shadow. The reflection of wild colors was cast among the surface of the sea. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

The rest of that evening was the most fun I’ve had in years. Max and I had a great time. That night, I lay in bed without a doubt in the world that tomorrow would be twice as exciting.


I woke up to a foul sound. It was like a car was parked beside me and the security alarm wouldn’t stop. I knew that sound too well. My eyes flew open revealing the most disappointing sight in the world. I was in the realms of the future. I was in my depressing room in my gloomy house. My perfect dream had just ended.

The past seemed to tease me. I couldn’t go back. I missed my best friend. I can’t imagine what has changed him.

Suddenly, an idea hit me. Quickly, I packed every clothing article or any object of importance in my suitcase. I couldn’t possibly say goodbye to my mother. She wouldn’t let me leave if I did.

I drove to the nearest airport which was located in Virginia. I was ready to start a new chapter of my life.

Just before I got on the plane, I remembered to take out my cell phone. In one swift motion, I pulled up a number on the phone and called it. All I said into it was, “Max, I’m coming to New York.”