I grew up next to her; our tempers rose and fell together; we were best friends. Like all excellent relationships, this one was broken. I moved with my parents, she couldn't come along. I cried as we slowly drove away; I could tell she was crying too. As we drove up those steep mountains, I could see her from miles away, sitting there in the open, so vulnerable.

Some of the best times of my life were spent with this friend; ocean was her name. She was the first thing I saw every morning and the last thing I heard at night for five years. I would run out on Saturdays and be greeted with a warm splash in my face; I didn't mind - that meant the games were on. I played all day, building castles and draining my sorrows in her deep waters where only the fish understood. I collected the seashells that she generously gave. Each one was a personal gift to me.

After we moved I thought I would never have a friend I could share my dreams and sorrows with. I was right. We went back years later to this ocean I loved so much. The memories were still there like it was just yesterday we parted. Tears came to my tiny brown eyes when I heard her whisper once more. I visited all my "secret" spots again. They seemed untouched; I thought she had guarded them for me. I didn't need anyone else; when I was at the ocean; she gave to me what nobody else could. I experienced inner peace when the warm ocean breeze blew through my hair, a breeze filled with a familiar smell and a strange mist, cooling me throughout.

It seemed like no one else trusted her as I did. They seemed afraid of something, something I never saw in her. I was always told to watch out, to stay in the shallows. Obviously, I could not help but wonder; I didn't want curiosity to ruin my love for this friend though.

The ocean brings back wonderful memories, but the surrounding area brings back scary memories. The grass runway where my dad flipped his plane that hot summer day; we had to find a different form of transportation home. Another memory of when my uncle crashed his beach buggy, with my parents in it, and both suffered minor injuries. Other than that I remember only good times.

Since we didn't have a home at the beach anymore, we lived in a vacation home. My dad and I would take his new plane out over the ocean, which was very dangerous because of the strong winds. We would call it "sightseeing" - my mom called it stupidity. We saw whales, sharks, giant turtles and squid.

Then I got over my friendship with the ocean. I realized my dad was there all along; I just needed to open up to him like I had to the ocean. Sometimes your best friend is right under your nose. c