Personal Narrative: Where Dreams Collide
Where Dreams Collide
Fiji was a place that was almost too exotic--a place that existed only in movies and magazines. I remember the first time I saw a picture of a perfect wave in Surfer Magazine. I was fourteen years old. I studied the glassy surface in detail. I couldn’t imagine being in that wave and how it would almost feel as if time was stopped.
I can still remember that photo now and I can picture exactly what it said. Tavarua, Fiji. The heart shaped island imprinted on my heart. It drew something out of me that I had never felt in quite the same way. Wonder mixed with peacefulness.
That picture hung on my wall for three years. I would look at it until I turned out the light sometimes. In the glassy waters I could see a reflection
Fiji was a place that was almost too exotic--a place that existed only in movies and magazines. I remember the first time I saw a picture of a perfect wave in Surfer Magazine. I was fourteen years old. I studied the glassy surface in detail. I couldn’t imagine being in that wave and how it would almost feel as if time was stopped.
I can still remember that photo now and I can picture exactly what it said. Tavarua, Fiji. The heart shaped island imprinted on my heart. It drew something out of me that I had never felt in quite the same way. Wonder mixed with peacefulness.
That picture hung on my wall for three years. I would look at it until I turned out the light sometimes. In the glassy waters I could see a reflection