My watermark is Lake Huron.

When I was young at the beach, I would laugh and play and not have a care in the world. I would watch in hope to see the small fish swimming graciously in the water, the seaweed slightly tickling my toes, and feel the rushing water whip my legs. I would swim for hours and hours on end, never even stopping to take a breath of air.

When I was young at the beach, I would let myself sink into the comforting sand, feel the warm sun burn my soft skin, and hear the hungry seagulls desperately search for food. The beach was the relaxing place where all of my worries went away.

When I was young at the beach, I would bury my sister in the sand, build castles that I pretended were my own, and watch everything wash away in the silky water. Here, I was safe. All I had to worry about in the moment was the seagulls chasing after the food in my hands.

By the time night came, I would watch the sunset fall slowly over the calm waves of the lake, and feel a sense of relaxation wash over my body. Here, I was okay to leave. Because I always knew inside of me, a piece of me would always remain here, at the beach.