So, how are your relationships with your kin? Are you close-knit, or cold and distant? Is the communication flowing between you just a trickle, or are you open with each other? Do you confide in your family for matters plaguing your mind? (Food for thought, these questions are.)
...I'll stop prying into your private life now. Anyway, last year, my entire family, needing a breather from our hectic schedule, went on a trip to East Coast Park. As usual, my father, being the only person with a driver's license, chauffeured us to our destination. Along the way, the radio was cranked up, and blaring some...(dear Lord! Mercy!)pop music. (Since my brother always sat in the front seat, next to my dad, he got to select the radio stations. The rest of us had to suffer through the songs.)
Once we reached our destination (and in good time too!), we got out of the car and headed to the bike rental store. Upon exiting the air-conditioned freezer that was the car, a gentle breeze caressed my face and tousled my hair, providing some reprieve from the (surprise!) blistering heat. (You can't blame me, I just got out of the car.)
Upon reaching the bike rental store, the sight of sleek bikes, glinting under the sun, greeted us. We each selected and tried out our bikes, and my brother and I waited while our parents paid for the bicycles. They were, sadly, many notches above the shoddy bicycle that I own. (Sadly because the memory of the bike's performance will always stay in my mind, gnawing at me, mocking the inferior excuse of a bicycle that I have. Damn.)
Once we were ready, we placed our water bottles in a compartment conveniently located below the handlebars. At first, all of us were a little wobbly, due to the long period of inactivity from biking activities. Gradually, we regained our balance, and set off, staying on the lane nearest to the shore, so we could admire the scenery and feel the sea breeze on our faces.
And, ah...the sea was just breathtakingly beautiful, the bluish-green waves lapping softly against the shore, the beach-goers frolicking about, or just suntanning, under the midday sun, the same sun that caused the water to shimmer...and the smell of salt that pervaded the air...it was all calm and blissful. However, as much as I would like to say that the beach looked like this:
It really wasn't the case. The sand, it was fine and golden, but litter was strewn at many spots. (So much for the CIP, huh?) It sort of killed the buzz, the serenity I'd been experiencing. They were eyesores, really, and once I stopped just to pick up a plastic bag that had been flying around.
Finally, I just decided to overlook the litter and enjoy the view of the sea. Even though it wasn't as clear as the one pictured above, it was still beautiful. And the breeze, oh, the glorious breeze! As we cycled, I enjoyed the wind that blew against my face, the rush that came with the speed...it was all adrenaline-pumping. Feeling hyped, my brother and I raced each other from one pedestrian crossing to another, which were spaced quite far apart. Granted, it was dangerous, but still, everyone's allowed to have fun, right?
We stopped for a bit at a path that stretched towards the sea. It was a spot for fishermen (and women) to enjoy the scenery and the breeze, the sights and sounds of the beach, while fishing tranquilly.
At approximately 5 pm, we paddled back from whence we came, and returned our bikes all too soon. I bid my bicycle farewell, and even though I've used it for a short time, I somehow felt attached to it. (I am not a weirdo.) Strolling to the shore, we spent the rest of the day frolicking at the beach, walking barefoot and letting the water lap against our feet, stopping ever-so-often for the occasional seashell, which we stashed in a plastic bag we found lying on the ground. Our parents sat together on the sand, chatting with each other.
At that moment, I felt the bond between us, the close-knit family we have come to become after all these years, putting up with each others' faults and mistakes, placing aside any misgivings. This was the family that I had come to love.
(Sorry if you find it corny, hehe.)
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