“Looks like storms a-coming,” Grandpa chuckled, his eyes glinting with the thrill of the approaching weather as we secured the last corner of the cover on our sailboat. The air was thick with anticipation, and I could almost hear the whispers of the wind warning us to brace for the adventure ahead.

As we carefully loaded our beloved sailboat - The Maria - into the cozy boathouse, I felt a wave of happiness wash over me. Our familiar routine felt like a warm hug. The gentle patter of rain against the car windows made our drive home feel like a snug little escape. Grandpa, with his mischievous smile, cranked up the old radio, and soon his voice blended with the crackly tunes of our favorite sailor songs. The car was filled with warmth and nostalgia, each note bringing back happy memories. Outside, the rain danced softly, reminding us of nature's soothing beat, while inside, we felt safe and happy just being together.

It's just been my grandpa and me for as long as I can remember. My parents passed away when I was just a baby, and my grandpa rarely speaks of my grandma. I understand that's a part of our past he prefers not to dwell on. But despite that, he always reminds me that we have each other, and that's what truly matters. We create our own happiness together.

For dinner, we’re having lobster that my friend’s dad caught. He gifted it to us because it was too small for him to keep. Just as I was enjoying the moment, Grandpa interrupted my thoughts, insisting I go outside to bring in the clothes from the line before the storm got worse. As I stepped outside, the wind whipped through my hair, but I pushed against it and confidently gathered the clothes, determined to get the job done.

Later that night, after I had picked up all the clothes, I settled into bed, wrapped in the comforting rhythm of the rain drumming against the ceiling and the distant thunder rumbling outside. I found solace in the sound of my grandfather in the living room, lost in his world of sketching maps. As the soothing dreams of the ocean washed over, carrying me to sleep.

The next morning, Grandpa gently shook me awake with a smile. On our island, we have a fun saying: “after the storm, it’s first come, first serve!” That means we get to keep whatever treasures wash up on the shore. Everyone wakes up bright and early just for that! I quickly put on my boots, shorts, and a T-shirt before heading out with Grandpa to the beach.

As we arrive, I spot the Johnsons, the Mells, and Mrs. Lin confidently surveying the wreckage left by last night’s storm. Grandpa and I exchange greetings with them before diving into our own search through the debris. Meanwhile, the Rileys emerge and kick off a lively music set from their impressive new speaker.

“Look at all this trash,” Mia says softly, moving closer to me. Living on a small island, we’ve always believed in holding onto things because you never know when you might need them. It saddens us that people from the mainland discard so much each day, and a lot of it washes up on our once pristine beaches. We care deeply for our home, and it’s disheartening to see it overrun with rubbish.

As we continued to sift through the debris, I noticed a small box tucked away. I opened it gently, revealing a mound of sand inside. As I reached the bottom, my heart softened at the sight of a photo—a man in jeans and a purple shirt, leaning in to kiss a woman in a long, flowery dress. Their joyful smiles radiated warmth, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity and empathy for the lives they once shared. I wondered who they were and what beautiful moments they had together.

The ocean has a way of taking more than it gives, doesn't it? It can feel overwhelming, as it often leaves us to pick up the pieces in its wake.