Two years ago I went with my best friend and his family to Rockport, Texas. We stayed at a beautiful two-story house about 300 feet from the water. It’s an odd feeling when two years feels like a lifetime ago. We went to Rockport to fish off their beautiful private docks that extended out half a mile into the ocean. My favorite memory during my time at Rockport was lying on the roof of the beach house. My friend and I brought out pillows and a boombox and laid down on the sandpaper tiles, enjoying the cool breeze and the gorgeous view. The two-stories-tall palm trees, the clear, baby-blue sky, and the dark green ocean created the perfect illusion of a tropical paradise. I don’t remember if we talked much, or just sat there and enjoyed the moment. The roof was shaped weirdly: When you climbed out of the window it was flat, but then all the corners of the house would ramp up, and meet in the middle. Luckily, if we stayed right outside the window, there was enough shade to keep us from becoming charred, unidentifiable bodies from the harsh Texas sun. I’m not sure what it was about that roof, but it was the most relaxed I had been in years. Later in the day his mom had seen us on the roof and told us to get off; we decided we didn’t want to and climbed up further to where the corners met at the top. While I laid across the top of the roof I eventually fell asleep. When I awoke, the backs of my legs were the color of my red hair and I couldn’t bend them without the pain of stretching the sunburn. I wish I could remember more details, but, as I said before, the last two years have felt like a lifetime. This memory is very special to me; it was a little slice of Arcadia during a dark time.