“Are those kids still asleep?” I hear my dad and mom talking outside of the bedroom that I’m sharing with my brother. I’m on the bottom bunk of one bunk bed, and he is on the bottom bunk of the other. Of course, we are in my most favorite place of all time, or at least what was my most favorite place of all time in that moment. My aunt and uncle’s beach house in Ocean Pines, Maryland.
A few seconds later I see an image that is now forever ingrained in my brain, and brings a smile to my face whenever I think about it.
The door flies open, and my tall, tan, healthy, early riser, marine…loud dad yells into our room, “We’re burning daylight!” He is, obviously, wearing a Donald Duck, sleeveless beach shirt (for lack of a better term), that he got on our one and only non-beach family vacation to Disney World. I have a Winnie the Pooh one, and it now belongs to my daughter.
That’s my little bro in the picture.
“If you want to go with us to the beach, you need to get your behinds (he probably used a different word) downstairs, eat breakfast and get in the car. I’m outta here in twenty minutes. You snooze, you lose.” And off he goes to finish a cup of coffee on the patio overlooking the water (now, my most favorite thing to do). Or pack up the car, or put his fishing rods on the front of the car, or otherwise prepare to leave for the beach.
At the time I could not understand why we had to go to the beach at the butt crack of dawn. As an adult, of course, I realize that since we had to drive there from my beloved beach house – there was less traffic, easier parking, less crowded beaches, and beautiful early morning beach-ness. But as a teenager it was baffling. We usually stayed through a packed lunch on the beach, came home, showered up, and went to dinner. It was perfect. Especially for me, who actually preferred to be with my family than hanging out on the boardwalk or whatever normal teenagers do at the beach – just maybe with a later start time.
So I’m partly writing this post because I am still actively grieving, and because I can’t tell you how much those years and summers at the beach meant to me, especially in hindsight, and because I want you all to know that your kids will appreciate whatever memories you make with them. They will rely on things you didn’t know were traditions. They will cherish your ‘regularly scheduled programming’ of phrases and nagging and predictable responses, and those summer vacations, or winter vacations, or day trips, or whatever things you do.
One day they will relay to someone how special those weeks at the shore were, how they can now appreciate your need to be the first one on the beach, or reminisce about your desire to NOT ‘burn daylight’ (waste time). They will tell people that the sight of your shirt hanging on a beach chair, or your alarming awake-ness at ridiculously early hours are now the most endearing memories.
Plan the trip. Take the trip. Do all the things, and your kids will thank you for it. Be you. They will remember what made you who you were, and them who they are. The memories will be what they cherish during the most difficult of times.
Gosh this was a beautiful piece Kristin. I was tearing up reading it b/c it is so true , the memories are what get you through the tough times. Your dad looked like a fun guy and he sounded funny too! Family vacations are truly the best, all the good, the bad, and the hilarious (only years later!). Hugs my friend! Please keep writing about your travel and thoughts, i enjoy reading them!