I look across this beach at Hilton Head, where the Atlantic Ocean caresses the white sands of South Carolina.

Knowing it wasn’t always so, I see the diversity this resort now boasts.

Different ethnicities, cultures, races, languages, and beliefs are all enjoying it, one in the same.

All that makes us different, and yet so much that makes us the same.

I wonder if these children, all laughing and playing innocently, are ignorant of the transgressions committed on these now tranquil waters.

I’m jealous. I wish I didn’t know.

That these crystal clear blue waters were not always so.

I feel strangely guilty at the incredible sense of healing I felt as the water gently rolled across my feet.

I stared into the distant shores that held my history, my narrative, and my story.

These waters hold both the tragedy and triumph, the pain and strength, and the beauty and ashes, of my ancestors.

I see their wildest dreams.

I hear their wildest dreams.

I am their wildest dream.

Selah.