The Ocean and the River
A Short Florida Story
My earliest memory is of the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean as it sucked my mother and seven-year-old brother out to sea. I screamed and screamed in terror. My brother, Danny was only joking when he said, “There’s giant sharks like Jaws in the water. They’ll gobble you up in one bite.” I believed him. Mom left me on the shore because I had refused to step into the roaring, crashing, spraying liquid behemoth. I shielded my ears from the deafening noise of the waves and wailed in despair.
Mom and Danny laughed together as they bobbed over the rolling ocean current. On returning, Mom patted me on the head. “I told you we’d be right back.” Somehow, I couldn’t believe her. This was not the first time I felt alone and afraid, nor was it the last time I’d realize the world was a dangerous place.
On weekdays, the wind whipped through my scant hair as I rode in the baby seat of my mother’s bike. I held on tight while we crossed Pineapple Avenue to the Eau Gallie Public Library where she worked as a Librarian Assistant. Behind the library, Mom held my hand as we stomped on the dock over the brackish waters of the Indian River Lagoon.
We watched the shimmery schools of mullet leap through the air and splash dive—reminders that these placid waters teemed with life. The Indian River Lagoon is the most biodiverse lagoon in North America, housing over 2,200 different species of marine animals.
Cutting through the crest of the gentle waves, a curved dorsal fin followed the jumping mullet fish. Bursting from the river, the bottlenose dolphin, with her perpetual grin made her grand debut before diving back into the deep. There are only 300 of her kind in this estuary, those in the northern section being less healthy than those in the south. Long yellow floaters along the banks of the lagoon hedge in the clean water from the many oil slicks that contaminate the river. Some speculate this is due to pollution from either the cruise line industry or a nearby military base.
Hedged in by Green Eggs and Ham, The Poky Little Puppy, Are You My Mother?, and A Child’s Garden of Verses, my mother left me on the carpet in the children’s section of the library so she could shelve books. I was too young to go to school, so she brought me to work with her. I didn’t leave that little cove of wonders but delicately turned the pages of my favorite stories. The pictures wrapped around me like my rainbow-striped knitted baby blanket. As long as Mom brought me with her to the library, I felt special, contented, and somehow protected.
When school was out for summer, Mom didn’t trust her boyfriend to watch us. She dropped off Danny and me at my grandparents’ house. Going to Grandma’s was written along the side of my little red suitcase which carried my few outfits.
In her backyard, Grandma Sharon had set up a snap-on pool with a seascape printed on its side. She filled it with water from her garden hose so Danny and I could swim like dolphins. For lunch, we ate watermelon to cool off along with chicken noodle soup and gooey Velveeta grilled cheese to fill our bellies.
Grandpa Gordon caught mullet with his net in the Indian River Lagoon. He smoked them in his homemade smoker and made delicious spicy fish dip that we’d eat with crackers. Other times, Grandpa, a certified Scuba diver, cruised out with his boat into the Atlantic with his spear gun. He brought home grouper or triggerfish and invited the whole family for a fish fry. Like dolphins, we gobbled them up.
Grandma was an expert seamstress and handmade dresses for me to wear to Sunday School at her Presbyterian Church. She sewed matching dresses for myself and my great-grandma Thelma when she visited us.
As it turns out, I was slightly crippled. Both feet turned inward and didn’t straighten out on their own. When I learned to walk, I frequently fell and scraped my hands and knees on the pavement. My pediatrician recommended for Mom to put me in ballet to correct my feet. I received a scholarship because Mom didn’t make much money. All those pliés helped. Before my classes, Grandma pinned up my hair up in a bun, and sprayed a ton of hairspray to make it stay put.
Once, while I was spinning around the living room in my sparkly sequined ballet outfit, I knocked down a porcelain bald eagle—one of Grandma’s favorite collectible birds. It tumbled to the floor and broke its wing.
I froze in fear. Grandma pulled me close to her pillowy chest and hugged away my anxiety. Afterward, she proudly displayed her eagle with the wing glued back on. My grandma showed me that some people will love you no matter what. Even if you cost them dearly. My childhood had its traumas but it also had its beauty. My grandparents showed me Jesus by their love. The ocean roar is deafened by the tranquil waters of the river.
Read “Once Upon a Time,” another short Florida story, here.
Thanks for sharing your memories of simpler times in Florida. The ocean can be a terrifying place for small children. My oldest got swept out by the current once and needed grandad to struggle out to retrieve them.