The Poseidon

When Mclean thinks of the beach, she doesn't think of her mom's new fancy beach house that comes with all the bells and whistles—she thinks of this old decrepit motel, the Poseidon, that they used to go to when she was a kid:

This was my mother as I liked to remember her, hair in a sloppy ponytail, wearing cheap sunglasses and smelling of sunscreen and salt. She read terrible romance novels during the day (her guiltiest of pleasures), and at night, sat with me on the rickety chairs outside our room and pointed out constellations. (4.92)

For Mclean, the Poseidon represents a moment frozen in time—a time when her parents were still happy together and their family was complete. All the other places, like her hometown, have been tainted by her parents' divorce, but she can still have fond memories of the Poseidon. When she runs away from her mom's beach house, it's the only place she can think of to go to because it's the closest to going "home" to her past:

"I just felt lost all of a sudden. This was the only place that was familiar."

"This place?" my dad said, glancing around the room.

"We had a lot of good times here," my mom told him. "It was where we always stayed when we took road trips to the beach." (16.72-74)

Yup—the motel definitely represents the good old days for Mclean, and it seems like it does for her mom too. And its name—Poseidon—references the god of water from Greek mythology. But according to legend, Poseidon didn't just watch over all things water—he also had a bit of a temper. So though the Poseidon (the motel) brings a sense of calm to Mclean, we also know it's not a place she can stay—it can't heal what ails her.

In the end, Mclean realizes that she can't cling to the past because time marches on. Even though she wants to stay in the Poseidon by herself, she has to leave and figure out what to do next with her life—she has to dive into her life as it flows forward if she's got any hope of staying afloat and finding happiness.