This image was taken by our writer Karina Coghlan.
Summer is here. The sun is shining, school is out, and families take vacation. It’s the season of road trips and airplanes (although not everyone is a fan of sky travel). It’s the season of adventure. Hiking, camping, fishing, the list goes on and on.
As I reminisce on my own summer vacations that have come and passed, I can’t help but think that summer isn’t quite complete without a trip to the beach. There were a few different beaches my family liked to visit. Pismo, for example, was a fun beach town. I liked watching detailed, extravagant sandcastles being built. I wasn’t so fond of the freezing cold ocean water. Pismo will always be the place where I didn’t learn to surf because I cut my leg open with a shark tooth after a gigantic wave knocked me down and held me down. Naturally, I possess a small grudge against Pismo. The number one beach for me is Ventura.
At Ventura, we would camp in tents and ride our bikes everywhere, although if I were you, I would make sure the bike tire is not flat before setting out on a lengthy night ride.
We’d start off the morning at the donut shop. This donut shop made the best donuts in the world (sorry to the donut shop of my hometown, you are a close second). At that point in time, my favorite donut was still an old-fashioned butter bar, so that is what I chose to eat that fateful morning. We didn’t just get donuts, though; each of us would get an iced coffee, and my parents would split a breakfast croissant sandwich while my brother and I would do the same. The sandwich was to help our tasty donuts not make the sweet coffee bitter. It turns out that there was a lot of food for breakfast, too much food for me, in fact. I quickly finished my vanilla bean Frappuccino, wrapped up my favorite donut to eat later when I would inevitably become hungry, and placed it safely in my bike basket.
We rode around town and along the beach path until we found a nice spot to play. We parked our bikes in front of a sandy hill and walked down to the water to jump the waves and collect seashells. My mom would take pictures throughout our vacation with her digital camera. While we were busy collecting shells and jumping waves, my mom was capturing the moment. That’s when she noticed all the seagulls gathered around our bikes, making noise. Celebrating. Having a party. My mom brought this to our attention. When I looked over and realized what was happening, two little words forced their way to the front of my mind and out of my mouth.
“MY DONUT!”
I sprinted towards our bikes with the hope that it wasn’t too late to save my precious butter bar. It was not meant to be. Those pesky, thieving birds ate every last crumb. Every last crumb. That’s when I learned to be wary of seagulls.
This was written by our contributing writer, Karina Coghlan.
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