When I think about the beach house, I see two little girls and a little boy playing on the beach. Burying things in the sand, making sandcastles, and staying out in the summer sun the entire day until they become exhausted from the heat and have to go inside. Staring at the empty beach now, in the middle of Fall, which I never got to see since I only ever came here during the summer; changed my view of how I see it. All I see now is a broken family and heartbreak.
Let me start from the beginning, which now feels like forever ago, and in truth it was. I first started coming to this very beach and staying at our beach house when I was two years old with my best friend in the entire universe and her older brother. Their names were Jacqueline and Daniel, but we all called them Jackie and Danny for short. We have known each other since the day we were born. Our parents had gone to college together and were the best of friends and kept their friendship going even after graduating. I consider her parents to be my Aunt and Uncle and they did the same with mine.
I don't remember what it was like when I first came here with Jackie, Danny, and our families when we were little, but I'll always remember the last time. The beach house was our favorite place in the entire world, and, to me, it always would be.