The Idea of an Essay, Volume 4

72 The Idea of an Essay: Volume 4 -…- My family began to leave as my six-year old self sat in the tall grass by a little red and white lighthouse. My love for Newfoundland began during my first trip to Newfoundland in 2003. As I sat there in the grass, my mom walked up and sat by me. We looked and waited together. The date was September 2003, my first trip to Newfoundland. As a six-year old boy my biggest obsession was whales. I remember measuring the lengths of whales in my backyard and reading every whale book and diagram in my library. “If I could only see a real, live whale,” I thought. The chance came when my parents announced that we were traveling to an odd island in Canada that, apparently, someone had newly found, Newfoundland. Now here I was sitting in a location where locals, from time to time, spot whales off-shore. My mom and I knelt to pray for a sighting as the rest of my family waited to leave. Looking out again I could see a fishing boat hauling in its catch with seagulls communicating in loud shrieks above. No whale. I squeezed my eyes shut to pray again. Suddenly, my mom exclaimed, “What was that? I think I saw something!” My eyes opened as if my alarm had gone off for wedding day. “Whale! Where?” “Oh, sorry Kyle, I was just seeing things.” That’s when it happened. Without a doubt, a whale surfaced. That was the time a miracle happened and God clearly answered my prayer. Whoosh-swoosh, the whale surfaced and blew a blast of water out its blowhole. Thirteen years later, that moment by the little red and white lighthouse continues to penetrate my heart. -…- Twelve years after the miracle by the little lighthouse, it was late may and snow had yet to release its grip from the land. The trail up the mountain was no exception. After passing the base camp, a two-mile hike, my brother and my eighteen-year-old self decided to continue our climb around the back edge of the mountain. By this time, despite the appearance of our surroundings, we were so hot that we decided to go shirtless. In hindsight, a bit more sunscreen should have accompanied our decision. Furthermore, due to constantly stepping on wet snow, swoosh-swoosh, our shoes, socks, and lower jeans were soaked. The worst part would be the occasional misguided step when my leg would crash through several feet of snow. Not pleasant.