My name is Dylan. I am young enough to buy alcohol but old enough to think twice about it. My hair is sandy blond and shaggy like those guys in the popular bands from 2005. My eyes are blue but not normal blue; they’re blue like the bottom of the ocean. My skin is kissed by the sun every day and it shows with it’s caramel tone. I think about how many miles of open water our planet has all the time. I used to surf and skateboard and rollerblade. I used to be so active that I could barely stand still. That was before.

I remember when I was younger, I ran outside to the tune of the local ice cream truck. When my bare feet hit the warm sidewalk, I realized it was much farther away than I thought. Dad was working on one of his old cars in the driveway. The hunter green hood was propped up and he was halfway underneath it. He always tried to teach me things about cars. It was an in one ear and out the other conversation every time. With a huff, I sat on the grass. The merry jingle of the ice cream far off then; I could barely hear it. Dad turned around with a smirk and said, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try some times, you’ll get what you need.” At the time, as a 10 year old, I didn’t know they were lyrics and I hardly understood what he meant. But at 24, it resonates. Dad always knew what to say.

I remember when I was probably about 16. Mom texted me while I was in my last class at school. I think it was science, biology. That day we were learning about how different species affect each other in the food chain. Her text read, “Be home on time, special dinner tonight. Love you.” I sighed loudly as I read it. Mrs. Dean scolded me for using my phone in class. I had plans to meet up with a few friends after school at the skate park. It was with that text that I decided I probably couldn’t go. Bummer. When my bus dropped me home, I went straight inside. I dropped my backpack by the front door and noticed that the table was set like it was for holidays. Mom made fried chicken cutlets, string bean casserole, loaded baked potatoes, and grilled lemon asparagus. For dessert, she made cranberry apple pie all from scratch. As delicious as it all was, the best part of the meal was my Mom’s smile. She loved nothing more than her family and seeing them happy. And she didn’t need a reason to make it happen. Mom knew exactly how to make a house feel like a home.

Shortly before I moved out of the house and into my first apartment; my little sister Dana asked me to help her set up her computer in her bedroom. She’d gotten it for her birthday and she wasted no time in wanting to set it up. I had a lot of experience with computers after being one of the leads in the Robotics club at school. I connected all the cords and checked all the outputs for her with ease. I centered it perfectly on her cherrywood desk. When I finished, she sat on the bar stool style chair and pressed the power button with her pointer finger. The screen came to life. The grin that spread across her face filled me with joy. She was so happy to finally be able to have the freedom of the internet in her own private space. “You’re the greatest,” she beamed. Dana always knew how to make me feel on top of the world; like I was needed, talented, important.

My name is Dylan. I always wanted a house on the beach, with sand right outside my front door. The ocean makes me feel like I am at the edge of the world. It’s an unmatchable feeling. Waves crashing up at the edge of my “front lawn”. It was a dream of mine. I reminisce all the time about when I felt like I had everything I could ever want. Before I grew up and had to fend for myself. A baby bird flying away from his nest. To his house on the water. If only I had known what was to come.

The week that I lost all of it, it happened all at once. Dad passed suddenly, some rare sickness that was genetic. Turns out he’d had a feeling it was coming but he put it out of his mind. He was hospitalized for a short time. There wasn’t much they could do. It was so quick, Mom hadn’t even collected herself enough to tell me. Then he was gone. 3 days later, Dana was driving Mom to the Urgent Care. She hadn’t eaten since losing Dad. She lost all of her sparkle in an instant. The rug was pulled out from under her. She was weak; she was sad. It was 4:32pm in the afternoon. The Urgent Care was 6 minutes from the house. A drunk driver crashed into the passenger side of the their car. Mom was killed instantly and Dana died 6 hours later from internal injuries. Dad was 46. Mom was 44. Dana was 19. I cried for weeks. I couldn’t sleep.

I quit my job. It all felt like a dream. I needed time to come to terms with this new life. I moved back home. I walked around the empty house every day, alternating between crying and sitting in silence for hours. This house used to be filled with the laughter of the people I love. It used to smell like cinnamon and oregano and vanilla. It used to be alive. Now it was a husk. This house was my house on the beach. It had all I could ever ask for all in one place. It held my happiness in every blade of grass in the backyard. It stored my childhood in it’s wallpaper. My family lived on in the photos framed on nearly every wall and mantle. If only I had realized all of that before.

My beach house is empty. The walls are old, water damaged, and fraying. The doors are long gone; there was no need to hold anything in or out anymore. The carpeted floor, once pristine and white, is buried under hills and mountains of sand. The ocean, unwavering, still crashes across my “front lawn”. The last thing I remember was standing in the bathroom. I remember pills. Tablets, capsules, liquids. I took them all. I don’t know why. Maybe I was tired. My eyes were so blurry and watery and burning all the time. They never got a break. But it didn’t take long for them to close after that.

In the living room, a mother and father discuss that day’s news. Giggling and shoving each other playfully as they speak. Sitting indian style at their feet, a young girl draws an elaborate picture with crayons. She pauses briefly to look up and smile. Standing in the door frame, is Dylan. All he can smell is brine. All he can feel is love. All he can see is the edge of the world. All he can hear is the waves and the calls of distant seagulls. All he can taste is salt.