"The tears I have shed in the salty waters, my screams that have been heard only by the wind and the vast horizon that calms my fears are a constant reminder of the person I will always be."

My pink, polished toes curl around the burning sand that litter the three-mile shore. My hands are slipping, by the second, from the grip on my 6’3" white, fiberglass salvation. The Maui daylight beats down on my tan skin, and the sweat beads roll down my forehead as I scan the sets rolling in. I see the break in the ocean, and my feet take off before my mind can comprehend what my body’s doing. My light, sun-bleached hair flies in my face as I rush on to my board and feel the brisk waters glaze over my legs. With every stroke in the turquoise waters, the muscles in my arm burn before I see a six-footer rushing towards me. My slippery hands grip the sides of the board, hearing the waves crashing around me, I use all my strength to push the nose down and in an instant I am gliding under the wave. Then…silence.

My mind retracts in timeless moments like these. When I am alone, under the Earth’s water, I lose my senses. The ability to escape the life that waits for me on shore becomes the reason for my constant return. The tears I have shed in the salty waters, my screams that have been heard only by the wind and the vast horizon that calms my fears, are a constant reminder of the person I will always be. Someone who fears yet craves the sight of tomorrow, someone who has shed tears because of the thought that I might not be what my parents expect. Or worse, what I expect. But every time I paddle out into the translucent waters to break down the composure I hold, something always catches my eye.

At around 6:30 p.m. every day, the sun lowers itself from its place at the top of the world; it becomes this radiant light, level with the world.

Straddling my board, I run my wrinkled hands over my wet hair and squint at the greatness of this beacon of light. I remember the days I’ve had driving around with my little sister, blasting One Direction as we pass the cliffside North Shore shoreline. I remember the sunset barbecues with my abnormally normal Hawaiian family of 20 people, eating Spam musubi and laughing the day away. I remember how much I will always have a part of Seabury Hall with me, a place that has equally caused me to break down with tears and laughter and love. I remember how at one point, I saw trying to pass my physics class similar to trying to avoid death. But I also remember how my mom and I would have our traditional Sunday Giannotto’s lunch with veggie pizza and Oreo cheesecake, talking about the future, people we mutually could not stand, the crazy Italian owner and ending with stories from her childhood in New Mexico and how she is so proud of her Latin-Hawaiian daughters.

Looking back toward the shore, I see a beautiful place I’ll always call home, but toward the immense and endless ocean, I see something that holds a treasure greater than anything I leave behind. As I rest on my board, I come to terms with who I am. Like the sun, no matter how high it may be all day, I will have a moment when I am at my lowest point. But at my lowest point, the light that shines through will be the brightest that it has ever been.

A smile cracks on my face, and I can taste the salty water on my lips. I propel my legs and turn my board around so I can catch the last wave of the evening and ride my way home. My arms reach out and let the glassy liquid seep through my fingers as I push one arm forward, then the other. I feel the wave coming beneath my board, and I mount myself up, staggering my legs but letting my hands glide through the wall of the salty water. I see where I am going, and where I come from. The sun becomes dimmer and dimmer, and as I look among the ocean and feel the wave carrying me through the wind, I am content…I am free…I am infinite.