And so it begins, the annual gathering of way too much stuff to be crammed into suitcases and bags for our week at the beach. After twenty-plus years of doing this, you'd think I'd have it down. I guess I do, but there's always the second-guessing. Do I really need to take three pairs of black flip flops? (Um, yes.) There's the last-minute do-I-have-enough-music panic, loading up the playlists with songs that don't get listened to because I end up hooked on one that I can't get enough of. There's the packing of the whole wardrobe--because you just never know--only to wear the same uniform all week. So why am I sitting here typing when I literally should be getting my crap together? Good question.
I look forward to the week at the beach all year, starting the moment we pull out of the rented beach house driveway to head home. Some years have been better than others, when the long year between trips didn't seem so endless and mundane, and I didn't dread going home so much. But I always couldn't wait to get back, and this year is no exception. Except...
Our family has changed, for better and for worse, and so must tradition. My aunt, the grand dame of our beach babe quartet, will...well, I was about to type that she won't be with us. But that is far from true. She will be with us more than ever. We will quote her when we go out for ice cream, when we search the horizon for dolphins, when we open the refridgerator and see how much food we have left. We will see her strolling the shoreline, head down, looking for shells. We'll hear her up first in the morning, making her cup of coffee, trying not to disturb anyone. She will be helping with the jigsaw puzzle, showing us her finds from the antique shops, guiding us to the least crowded spot in the sand for sunbathing.
Our clan owes our love of the sea and shore to our mothers. From our Nana to my aunt and my own mother, from Manasquan, New Jersey to Bethany Beach, Delaware. Get us all together and you will be sure to hear a beach story or three. It's a part of who we are, and I hope I can uphold the legacy and instill the same fondness for sea air in my daughter. This will be her third year going, and I think the brainwashing is working. She has been talking about it for awhile now, and I hope she bores everyone to death with stories of her trip when we return. But for the endless photos, she won't remember much of Bethany. We want to start looking for new adventures and places to discover and share with our Bean, so she can have her own sense of tradition and family trips to pass along one day, and always tying up one week of limited vacation time with the same destination hinders that plan. And so we move on.
So, in my rambling way, I suppose that's why I'm using this as an excuse to not deal with the beginning of the end, the packing and the prep work. But here is where I will try to lay to rest my thoughts on this being the final trip. I will now start looking forward to my annual week, and all of its usual activities like puzzles and bicycling and dolphin-watching and shopping. And I will go fill up my iPod with good intentions...
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