Makenna Laymon-Cutlip - Short Story - Marion County
Item
Title
Makenna Laymon-Cutlip - Short Story - Marion County
Description
The Ocean, Johnson's Baby Lotion, and A Mother's Love
Abstract
The Ocean, Johnson’s Baby Lotion, and A Mother’s Love
When I was a little girl, it was just me and my mom. My mother worked so hard to make
sure I had an amazing childhood. Every summer without fail, we would pack up her little blue
Thunderbird with either homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or peanut butter and
banana sandwiches, a variety of Adam and Eve juice boxes, and enough clothes to last a month.
Then we would set off for Myrtle beach. On the way, she would teach me how to hold the juice
boxes’ ‘wings’ so that the contents wouldn’t be squeezed out. We would cruise the highway with
various genres of music blaring from the speakers of the car. A menagerie of Chrisitan bands,
Carrie Underwood, Dolly Parton, and One Direction poured out of the vehicle.
Every couple of hours, when the gas tank was nearly empty and on its last dying breath,
we would stop to fill it as well as our rumbling stomachs. When we had finally crossed into the
North Carolina state lines we would find the closest state fair or amusement park, and blow the
entire day riding roller coasters and eating an abundance of greasy foods. I can still remember
the distinct smell of funnel cakes and freshly squeezed lemonade wafting through the air. When
we finally got to our destination, we would check into our hotel, run to our room, unpack at
lightning speed, throw on our swimsuits, and race down to the ocean. Mom would slather me in
SPF50 until I was ghostly pale and make me wait at least fifteen minutes to get into the water so
that the sunscreen could soak in. I despised her for it. How dare she build the anticipation of
finally diving into that salty, blue ocean, just to make me wait an eternity to actually get in? I
would sit there waiting and stare at the waves in awe. The way the ocean would swell in and out
in a constant motion was somehow peaceful…but the second she told me that those fifteen
minutes were up, I was off and dashing into the briny water. You see, the ocean never truly
scared me like it did most people. Sure, I didn’t know what lurked in its depths, but that's what
made it all the more beautiful. I would splash around, wading through the water and occasionally
diving down to the bottom, sifting through the sand in search of mesmerizing seashells. I would
bring my shells up to the shore, and my mom and I would make striking necklaces out of them,
tying them together with bits of fishing line we would find in the sand.
We would measure the lengths of our day by waiting until my hair was a knotted, salty
mess, and we could hear our stomachs growling. That’s when we knew that it was time to call it
a day. Trekking back to the hotel with sandy feet, we would talk about where we wanted to go
eat. Did we want a buffet, or did we want to splurge a bit and go to a fancier restaurant? When
we arrived at the hotel, we would take turns rinsing the salt and grime off our hair and bodies.
Afterwards, I would sit on the bed wrapped in a yellow duck towel as my mother fussed over my
stringy hair (from the salt water) and dry skin. She would sit and rub Johnson’s Baby Lotion on
every single inch of my body until I was nothing more than a big blob of moisturizer. Every
single day for the next month would be exactly like this. Occasionally, we would order in room
service, or get takeout from a small hole in the wall Chinese restaurant and sit on our beds with
our pajamas on while watching Judge Judy or The Price Is Right. However, there were three
things I knew I could count on always being there everyday: the ocean, Johnson’s Baby Lotion,
and my mothers love. This time of my life, all of these beach trips, would become a core
memory. Over the years, our beach trips would become shorter and shorter until eventually, they
just stopped. As I got older, I busied myself with sports and our time together during the summer dwindled until it was nothing more than a distant memory; however, these are the memories that
I will forever remember and cherish.
When I was a little girl, it was just me and my mom. My mother worked so hard to make
sure I had an amazing childhood. Every summer without fail, we would pack up her little blue
Thunderbird with either homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or peanut butter and
banana sandwiches, a variety of Adam and Eve juice boxes, and enough clothes to last a month.
Then we would set off for Myrtle beach. On the way, she would teach me how to hold the juice
boxes’ ‘wings’ so that the contents wouldn’t be squeezed out. We would cruise the highway with
various genres of music blaring from the speakers of the car. A menagerie of Chrisitan bands,
Carrie Underwood, Dolly Parton, and One Direction poured out of the vehicle.
Every couple of hours, when the gas tank was nearly empty and on its last dying breath,
we would stop to fill it as well as our rumbling stomachs. When we had finally crossed into the
North Carolina state lines we would find the closest state fair or amusement park, and blow the
entire day riding roller coasters and eating an abundance of greasy foods. I can still remember
the distinct smell of funnel cakes and freshly squeezed lemonade wafting through the air. When
we finally got to our destination, we would check into our hotel, run to our room, unpack at
lightning speed, throw on our swimsuits, and race down to the ocean. Mom would slather me in
SPF50 until I was ghostly pale and make me wait at least fifteen minutes to get into the water so
that the sunscreen could soak in. I despised her for it. How dare she build the anticipation of
finally diving into that salty, blue ocean, just to make me wait an eternity to actually get in? I
would sit there waiting and stare at the waves in awe. The way the ocean would swell in and out
in a constant motion was somehow peaceful…but the second she told me that those fifteen
minutes were up, I was off and dashing into the briny water. You see, the ocean never truly
scared me like it did most people. Sure, I didn’t know what lurked in its depths, but that's what
made it all the more beautiful. I would splash around, wading through the water and occasionally
diving down to the bottom, sifting through the sand in search of mesmerizing seashells. I would
bring my shells up to the shore, and my mom and I would make striking necklaces out of them,
tying them together with bits of fishing line we would find in the sand.
We would measure the lengths of our day by waiting until my hair was a knotted, salty
mess, and we could hear our stomachs growling. That’s when we knew that it was time to call it
a day. Trekking back to the hotel with sandy feet, we would talk about where we wanted to go
eat. Did we want a buffet, or did we want to splurge a bit and go to a fancier restaurant? When
we arrived at the hotel, we would take turns rinsing the salt and grime off our hair and bodies.
Afterwards, I would sit on the bed wrapped in a yellow duck towel as my mother fussed over my
stringy hair (from the salt water) and dry skin. She would sit and rub Johnson’s Baby Lotion on
every single inch of my body until I was nothing more than a big blob of moisturizer. Every
single day for the next month would be exactly like this. Occasionally, we would order in room
service, or get takeout from a small hole in the wall Chinese restaurant and sit on our beds with
our pajamas on while watching Judge Judy or The Price Is Right. However, there were three
things I knew I could count on always being there everyday: the ocean, Johnson’s Baby Lotion,
and my mothers love. This time of my life, all of these beach trips, would become a core
memory. Over the years, our beach trips would become shorter and shorter until eventually, they
just stopped. As I got older, I busied myself with sports and our time together during the summer dwindled until it was nothing more than a distant memory; however, these are the memories that
I will forever remember and cherish.
Youth(s) First Name and Initial of Last Name
Makenna Laymon-Cutlip
Age Division
14
Category
Short Story
County
Marion
