The Ebb and Flow of Guam

Of all the places I lived, the beach was closest on Guam. I remember white sand on northern island beaches burning my feet, and those same feet running tourist crowded expanses to the promise of cool, aquamarine lagoons.

Beaches in the south were always clouded with black sand in perpetually rough water. The darker grains, which felt like fire walking across burning coals, were much coarser. It was like swimming through a sand storm.

When the storms did come, only surfers sat in the churning gray water, waiting for waves to break over the safety of the coral reefs. The tourists were more interested in duty-free shopping.

After the typhoons, most of the sand was swept back into the ocean, reminding me of sugar castles dissolving in the rain. 

Day by day, the beaches would grow back. And the tourists returned with the nice weather.