Memoir 2

“No! No! The pretzel bag! Someone grab the pretzel bag!” Beth shouted from behind me where she sat in the very back of our tiny wooden canoe as we glided up into the air and bounced down hard over a sudden intense spell of waves.
But it was too late for the pretzels- we had been flushed with sea water seconds before. “Dang it.” I thought to myself. “I didn't even get to have any yet and now the whole bag is soggy and entirely uneatable.” I frowned deeply, but my troubled thoughts were quickly forgotten as we were bombarded with another grouping of even higher and more monstrous waves.
“AHHH” I screamed to the heavens. “What the heck?!”
Then suddenly we knew. As we looked to our left, paddles franticly trying to propel us forward, we could see the mighty Steamship Authority Ferry looming in the distance, gracefully transporting tourists between Hyannis and Martha’s Vineyard.
It was coming straight at us!
Terrified, we tried digging deeper into the water, putting forth an inhumane amount of force. Our little sister, huddled in the middle of the canoe without paddle or actual seat, began whimpering. Her swimsuit and face were streaked with the seaweed which kept coming over the side of the canoe and suctioning itself onto her like bile colored starfish. She sat in a tide pool of water up to her hipbones and the sea level was terrifyingly close to the top of the side of the canoe, which was at her eye level. I could feel her shaking behind me.

The atmosphere returning to shore was incredibly contrary to the previous trip we had made across the bay earlier that morning. Cheery and excited we had sung 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall twice and made up pirate names to pass the infinite time we had ahead of us. We went slowly and stretched our bodies lazily in the sun, barely paddling as the tide carried us to the deserted stretch of beach that lay ahead.

We had been shocked that morning at the breakfast table when we had confronted Mom with our plans for a day trip and potential picnic on the island across the bay, and she had approved. Completely surprised and bubbling with bliss and expectation we hastily ate and up and began to prepare for the day. Exploration! A land with no legacy of a human past! We had only ever canoed across the smaller bay, over to Gull Island, a stinky mess of muck that only appeared out of the water at low tide. We rippled with new adventure.
I made sure we remembered to grab food and Beth made certain I had smothered myself in sunscreen. Mary Kate, being younger and not fair skinned, was perfectly ready the moment she had put on her swimsuit when she had crawled out of bed with the sun that morning. She stood outside by the canoe which our grandfather had so kindly already heaved up into the bed of the truck, and danced around, waiting excitedly. She would get to ride in the truck, while Beth and I rode bikes, just in case someone needed to get home quickly. We didn’t wait for Mom and the boys, we were just too excited! So we kissed her goodbye and flew out the door down the street to the shore.
By the time Mom; pulling the wagon full of toys, towels, and little brothers made it to the beach, we had already set sail. We could see them on the rock jetty waving to us. Mary Kate smiled blissfully back, she was in heaven. It was not every day she got to hang out with the big girls!
We made it across easily with no troubles at all and pulled the canoe onto shore quite a ways away from the yacht anchored on a sandbar smack in front of the middle of our new beach. No bother, we would just pretend it was ours. As I stared at it, pure white and glimmering in the sun, I imagined sunbathing on the deck in a large straw hat and dark sunglasses, getting up only to dive off the side into the pure Atlantic blue water.
Beth started hollering for me and my day dream was broken. A horseshoe crab had floated right next to her as she stood, knee deep on the sandbar. For being the tough one, she sure was a scaredy-cat! We ran playfully back to shore and helped Mary Kate search for seashells. Though our beach was directly across the bay from where we were and the exact same ecosystem, it had been picked over many, many times by wandering children and romantic young lovers. There was hardly a chance you could find an exciting, different, or even unbroken shell there. This beach, on the other hand, was shell paradise.

By the time we had become aware of the Ferry heading towards us; however, all of the shells we had collected were long gone- dumped mercifully back to the bottom of the ocean where they had come from in a frantic attempt to lighten the canoe. We were definitely overloaded and chanced sinking.
Thankfully, we managed to maneuver our invisible little boat out of the Ferry’s path. Though still panicked, we soon relaxed as we could see Mom sitting on the rocks of the Jetty making a drippy castle. It was comforting to know we were almost there, especially for Mary Kate, who I could tell had stopped her silent crying.
The older younger brother, David, watched us as we pulled our now despised and hated canoe onto shore. He had been waving at us ever since he has noticed us returning on the horizon. We could tell he was bursting to tell us something, but our bodies soaked and exhausted, recently near-death, we were not to be messed with. We ignored him as best we could, until he said “You guys are in soooo much trouble.”
“What?!” We panted at him. “You’re ridiculous. You’re just jealous you didn’t get to come.”
“Nu-uh” He said, as we dragged ourselves over to where Mom sat, watching us. She had a very strange look on her face like she had been crying.
“You are never, NEVER, allowed to canoe across that bay,” was all she said.