It’s OK to Need Help

I remember when waves were huge. The sun was bright and the salt air was a strong fragrance. Vacation was the biggest time of year. To my siblings and I, it was better than Christmas. We loooved going to the Outer Banks! 

I ran into our new home for the week to find my room. I shared it with my sisters, but who cares?? We were at the ocean! I threw my bag open and searched for my bathing suit. I found it easy because I balled it up at the top. Twitching my bottom and yanking it up with great effort, my five-year-old self managed to get the suit on.

I strolled in the kitchen effortlessly sporting my new sunglasses and rainbow sun visor that matched my purple one-piece. Looking at my dad with puppy dog eyes, I asked if we could head on to the beach. You see, really, we had sheets to put on the beds, food to put away, and bathroom essentials to stock up first. Did I care about any of that stuff? Nope. The beach was calling my name.

My dad laughed and said, “Baby, you may want to look in the mirror.” His laugh got louder as he couldn’t help himself. I found a long mirror in my parents’ room. After a second, I realized I had my bathing suit on backwards. I then realized I was uncomfortable with my low back in front showing my chest and the back end creeping up below. I giggled. In all my excitement, I rushed and paid no mind to getting dressed. 

I put my bathing suit on the right way and came back out. I asked my dad if I looked cute now. He explained that I am always beautiful, but we should just be mindful to put our clothes on the right way. He picked me up and gave me a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug. He explained that we should get all the things done in the house first and then we could go to the beach.

I was disappointed but asked my mom how I could help her. She handed me sheets for my bunk bed, and I slapped them on as fast as I could and shoved my messy bag under the bed. I came back five minutes later and asked if we were finished still wearing my beach getup. 

Mom was stocking the kitchen with all the goodies and handed me some toilet paper. Now I began stomping to the bathroom. I threw it in there and slammed the door. I turned around and looked up. It was my father. Yikes! 

He looked at me with his arms crossed and asked what I threw in the bathroom. Also he said, “We don’t slam doors.” In his serious, you’re in trouble tone. I explained that it was only toilet paper. It was soft and wouldn’t hurt anything. He responded, “That is no excuse. We don’t throw anything, and we don’t slam doors!” I simply said, “Yes sir. I made my bed and put the toilet paper away. Now can we go to the beach? I am very sorry.” He said no and directed me to stack the toilet paper nicely. However, if I was good, we would go after everything was unpacked. I stomped into my room, leaned against my bed and crossed my arms.

“Katy!” My name is being called throughout the house. “Katy!” I walked out of my bedroom still sulking. My mom said, “I haven’t seen you in a while. What are you up to?” I replied, “Nothin’. Are we ready to go to the beach?” She answered, “Not with that attitude. If you calm down and do one more chore we will go.” Excitedly I responded, “OK what do you need momma? See, I’m happy now?” She laughed and said, “I see. Put the last few towels away while I pack the beach bag.” I agreed and grabbed the towels with my tiny hands. The towels belonged on the shelf. I was too little to get them up there. 

I thought and thought. This was a huge problem. How am I going to get these towels up there? First, I took a few and tossed them up. One bonked me on the head. The other was barely hanging on. Then I saw the stool in front of the sink. I moved it to the shelf. Yay! I can reach the bottom shelf. Good enough for me! So, I balled up the towels as small as I could make them and shoved them all on the bottom shelf. 

Then my mom came in to check on me. Uh-oh, I was hoping she wouldn’t see the mess. I was just going to say I was finished so we could go to the beach. She had a stack of washcloths too. Oh man, ugh! She looked at my mess and at me. I said, “I did my best. I can’t reach it. I will never get to the beach.” I began to cry. 

My mom picked me up and said, “It’s OK we will do it together. Next time, what do you think you should do?” I looked down at my feet, sniffling and answered, “Ask for help.” “That’s right,” she said. “Ask your sister or brother,” mom said. I responded, “They aren’t going to help me. They say no and push me or pull my hair. Besides, I am big. I gotta do stuff myself.” Mom chuckled and said, “It’s OK to need help. Even big people need help sometimes. As for your brother and sister, I don’t think they would try that nonsense today. They wouldn’t get to go to the beach.” 

“It’s OK to need help…”

Mom and I folded the towels again. She lifted me and I placed a towel up on the shelf. She then did the next. She gave one to me and I climbed on the stool and put a few on the bottom. She grabbed another and put it on the top. I finished up by putting the washcloths on the bottom.

I galloped into the family room and exclaimed, “Ta-Da! I finished! Now let’s go!!” My dad, lying on the couch after the long drive, got up. Pulling on his hand I said, “Come on, come on! It’s going to get nighttime.” Yawning and laughing, “I’m comin’. Your dad is getting old,” he responded.

We all got on our flip-flops and finally headed to the beach. I skipped along with my beach towel around my neck draping almost to my feet. My family is coming behind me. I am singing a Beach Boys song, my favorite band. My older brother and sister are just ahead of me because they are too cool to walk with us. My mom and dad are a little behind me. My mom is holding my younger sister’s hand and walking very slowly. My dad, well he is trying to keep an eye on me and catch up before we get to the highway. 

Finally, the ocean. I am here. The waves look like a tsunami in my five-year-old mind and body. I don’t care. I skip right to the water’s edge. The waves crash and the water reaches my tiny toes. It’s cold, but again, I don’t care. I scrunch my toes into the sand and brace myself for the next wave. My dad comes running up and grabs my towel. The tips of it are already soaked. He also grabs the flip-flops I threw off a few feet back as well. 

I stand there in amazement. Watching the waves, I smell a mixture of fish, squid, and sea salt. To me, it is like a sweet perfume. My soul is calm. I am finally here again. My favorite place in the world. The wind is blowing through my long brown hair and refreshing me. It was worth the wait.