Visiting The Spot

The drive is only a half hour, but I feel every second of it.

Is this a bad idea? Should I turn around? There’s no taking it back once we get there.

I usually love driving with Ava. We open the windows, take the roof off my Jeep, and turn the music up. She’s the best co-pilot as she gives me directions and alternates the music between my rock songs and whatever Taylor Swift song she feels like playing.

Today, it's silent. No music, the windows are up, and Ava is quietly looking out the window as I focus on the road ahead. She looks as beautiful as ever, her blonde hair falling around her bare shoulders, black sunglasses hiding her hazel eyes. An oversized navy tank top covers her two-piece swimsuit, save for the straps that tie around her neck.

Growing up in Clearwater, I always spent a lot of time on the beach. While my family lived a little more inland, my grandparents had a home just fifteen minutes away, right on the water. I have many memories at their house that begin with waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and salt water. The room my brother and I stayed in on the second floor had a large window that opened over the sand, with the ocean less than a hundred feet away. We often joked about sneaking out in the middle of the night, jumping down to the fluffy sand below, and going for a midnight swim when everyone else was asleep.

It was well known by anyone who knew me growing up that I loved the water. I always requested my birthday parties be on the private part of the beach outside my grandparents’ house, while my friends celebrated at skate parks or local arcades. Whenever my parents asked what we wanted to do for the weekend, I suggested swimming. I took my first date for a walk on the beach. I studied there. I visited when I was having a good day, a bad day, and everything in between. There’s something about being surrounded by the vastness of the ocean that makes the rest of the world feel small. And I loved that.

I shocked everyone when I graduated high school and decided to study criminal justice at the University of Tampa instead of choosing a marine-related major. To this day, I'm not sure what made me choose that path, but I'm thankful I did. If I hadn't studied at UT, I would have never met this wonderfully supportive woman beside me, scrolling through Instagram as we continue our drive.

We've been together just six months, but I'm fairly certain I'm sitting next to my future wife. I’m planning to ask her to move in with me when we graduate at the end of this semester, but before we take any big steps, I need to take her to the spot.

I smile softly, remembering the first time I visited it. Being there immediately changed everything for me. Every time I was struggling, I visited and instantly felt better. It’s small and easy to miss, but to me, it’s everything.

My grandfather passed away a month before my sophomore year began. I was thankful to have been home for the summer to help my family. It wasn’t long before my grandmother had to sell their beach home and move in with my parents. It broke my heart because I loved that house so much, and I knew she did too. I used to dream of buying it someday and raising my future children there.

That next semester was hard for me. I struggled with the loss, my grades were low, and I didn’t have friends besides maybe my roommate. One day, after a particularly rough day, I called my grandmother and broke down, telling her how much I missed everyone but didn’t have time for the hour drive back.

My grandmother was a kind and gentle woman, and she responded with the warmth I had been seeking, a warmth that lifted me out of the dark, cold place I had fallen into. She knew I needed her and sent me an address that was halfway between us.

About a half hour later, I was pulling into a very crowded restaurant’s parking lot, confused as to why she would invite me here. The restaurant was in the middle of the highway on a bridge that connected Tampa to Clearwater over the water. The bridge was a few miles long with no exits or places to turn off, with the exception of this one restaurant. It was built high over the water but had a small sandy section underneath. I saw my grandmother standing by her gold Camry near the exit and parked beside her.

She hugged me tight, then started walking.

“Your grandfather and I used to come here all the time,” she said.

“This restaurant?” I asked.

She smiled and continued to lead me toward the restaurant. Then, when I expected us to head to the front door, she turned and followed a small walkway that led to the land underneath. It was a path I hadn’t even noticed until we were on it. We walked for a few minutes, helping each other climb over rocks and sand dunes.

Finally, my grandmother sat down on a large rock formation. There were two wide rocks, one lying flat across the sand and the other leaning on its side along the back. It almost formed a perfect little chair, just big enough for us both. I sat next to her and looked out at the water.

It was absolutely breathtaking. Many little rocks sat at our feet, the water washing over them and licking at our toes. Looking straight ahead, the ocean was endless. To the left was a distant outline of Tampa’s skyline. To the right was Clearwater. It was quiet except for the sound of the water lapping and distant soft music coming from the restaurant above us. I immediately felt at peace.

“Your grandfather and I used to come here when we were younger,” she started, looking out at the water. “It was a different restaurant then, but this little cutout has been here for years. I’ve never seen anyone else down here.”

It was quiet for a few moments as we both absorbed the beauty of the nature around us. Then she smiled and continued.

“It’s been a while since I felt his presence as strongly as I do now,” she said. “I think he’s happy I came back.”

We stayed in the rock-formed chair for about an hour. I learned a lot about my grandparents when they were younger, how they would come here to dream about their future and, after a disagreement, to find peace again, and how she told him she was pregnant with my dad on this very rock. I started to tell her about what I was dealing with and how I was struggling, but as it so happens when I’m on the water, it no longer felt so bad.

I met my grandmother at the spot every Sunday for a year. Sometimes I’d bring a picnic for us; other times we both brought a book and read next to each other for a while. Almost every time we visited, she would look out to the water and talk to my grandfather. It was nice to watch how she kept loving him so much even after he was gone. I talked about school, work, and my attempts at meeting women, often for my grandmother to laugh at how bad I was at it. A mix of hearing her laugh and the sounds of the waves made everything seem less serious.

I had always been close to my grandmother, but it was in her last year when she really became my best friend.

She passed away at the end of my first semester junior year, and I was again thankful to have been home for winter break to be with my family. When I started back at school the next semester, I tried to continue visiting the spot every Sunday. The first two visits were really hard on me, and I didn’t go back again until I met Ava a few months later.

Ava and I were partnered together in a class project, but I wasn’t sure how to make the jump from classmates to friends to dating. I packed up my grandmother’s favorite lunch, then headed to the spot.

“What do I do?” I asked the water after telling it all about this gorgeous woman in my class. In my head, I could hear my grandmother laughing at another failed attempt. I started laughing also and continued, “This one is different, I know it.”

I started to return each week to talk to my grandmother about Ava and provide updates on how it was going. I drove straight there after our first date and told her all about it. I talked about school, gave updates on our family, and told her how much I missed her.

Somehow, no one ever saw me sneaking down the path to the side of the restaurant, and I was thankful to never have run into anyone down there. It was always quiet, peaceful, and helped me feel connected to my grandparents.

Now, as I pull into the restaurant parking lot, I look over at Ava sitting beside me and shiver. Will she understand how meaningful this place is? Will she think it’s strange that I talk to my dead grandmother here? Will my grandparents be upset I showed her the spot?

I put the car in park and walk around to the passenger side to open her door. Ava smiles at me as she steps down and takes my hand. She knows I’m nervous to bring her to such a special location but doesn’t know much about it.

I lead her down the path, helping her over rocks and sand the same way I used to with my grandmother. It’s strange to have another person with me again.

The sound of her flip-flops smacking the sand disrupts the peace of the waves. This is a mistake, I think to myself. I shouldn’t have brought someone else here.

Once we get to the rock chair, I motion for her to sit down and then sit next to her, putting one arm around her shoulders.

“My grandmother and I used to come here all the time,” I said.

As always, when I look out over the ocean, all my worries and anxiety immediately melt away.

I smile and say, “It’s been a while since I felt her presence as strongly as I do now. I think she’s happy I brought you here.”