As I sit here excitedly anticipating spending the week down at the shore with my whole gang, I find myself recalling the times we visited the shore as a young family. We would travel to the shore, leaving by 5 in the morning, having breakfast, spend the day on the beach, use the public showers to clean the sand off our bodies, walk the board walk, have dinner and return home by late evening.
I loved the ocean. The smell would put a smile on my face as we entered the causeways when the sea air would fill the car. Growing up in the midwest with small lakes at our feet and Lake Michigan at our door, was not unloveable, but the ocean, oh that ocean. The power, the smell…the sand.
I loved it until one summer during the Pony Penning at Chincoteague, Virginia. The ocean had become my favorite vacation spot, (although my husband could of easily given up the sand part). Friends of ours had a cabin on the bay side in Chincoteague and the only time they did not want to be there was during the Pony Penning so they shared it with us. It was a memorable trip with stories that we share over and over again, even today.
The first discovery was the mosquito. They were so thick I believed they could carry us away. Getting into the cottage was a delicate dance of run for your life while protecting the sanctity of the inner cottage. Pat went into the cottage, making sure he was in the right position to open the door at just the right moment, not allowing for any mosquitoes to come into the cottage. I would stay in the van, giving last minute instructions of how to run for your life into the house without getting bit. On your mark…..get set….go! Open the door, push a kid out, slam the door, watch kid run to the house, Pat open the door, grab the kid while slamming the door. Take a deep breath.
Okay, kid number two! Same routine. On your mark…get set…go! Open the door, push the kid out, slam the door, watch kid run to the house, Pat open the door, grab the kid while slamming the door. Take a deep breath.
Four times doing this before all were safe into the sanctity of the cottage. We checked around for any mosquito that may have found it’s way in and then inhaled. We are safe!
In the sunshine we were okay. Apparently mosquitoes didn’t like sun, but under a shade tree? Look out!
We discovered at Chincoteague that our younger son had a sleep walking problem. The cottage was tiny. A small kitchen, a living room with a pull out bed, and a front porch. It was located beside the bay in a residential community. Except for a bar down the street it was very quiet. We put the kids to sleep in the living room and Pat and I made a bed out on the front porch. Locking the doors and settling in we believed nothing could go wrong.
About 12:30 a.m. my husband jumped up suddenly (I didn’t hear anything so his movement startled me), and he went around the house checking things out. Coming back through the living area where the kids were sleeping he counted heads. One was missing. Suddenly he called out Aaron’s name. No response. I jumped up and joined in the chorus of yelling out for Aaron.
Outside panic gripped me further as we walked around shouting out his name realizing how close we were to the bay.
“Aaron!!”, we shouted.
Nothing…silence.
“Aaron!!” once again with more panic filling the name with each call.
Nothing.
“A A R O N”, I shouted as loud and long as I could.
From off in a distance I heard a soft muffled voice come back to me, “What?”
“A A R O N”, I screamed not sure if what I heard was anything.
“What?” came once again.
I ran to the front of the cottage and there 1 1/2 blocks down the street was my younger son, walking in the black of night in just his underwear. We soon learned that he often would sleep walk if he had to go to the bathroom. From that night on we barricaded the back kitchen door as if we were under attack.
The next day, with all our little chicks in tact, we decided before going to the beach to take them to the gift shop to pick up a little something they might like. Spending time in there with the kids was fun and we had some very silly times. Getting back into the van, heading on down the road, each kid called out for their present not wanting to wait until we got back to the cottage. I should say all of them called out but one. You guessed it. Aaron. Turns out he was not in the van, so we quickly turned around and drove the longest mile I have ever driven. When we pulled into the parking lot, there he was standing in the door way with his hand on his hips.
“Oh Aaron, were you scared when you couldn't find us?” I cried as I scooped him up into my arms.
“No,” he said calmly, “I knew you’d be back to get me!”
OMG, this trip was turning out to be one of either we were very lucky or there was a message we were not paying attention to. But the worst was yet to come.
On the beach the final day at Chincoteague, we were all enjoying the day. Pat was sitting at the shore line with the little ones while Damian, my oldest and I were out to our waist floating up and then down with each incoming wave. We were having a great time as long as my feet would touch bottom once the wave passed.
Then it happened. The wave came in and took Damian and me out. Our feet could not touch bottom and we both suddenly found ourselves doggy paddling to nowhere. Pat noticed that something was not right but was stuck on shore with the welfare of the little ones in his hands. The life guard noticed us about the same time and started to grab his floater and run toward us when suddenly the water drew from the beach, lifted Damian and I up higher and threw us to the shore. Swallowing water and eating sand we made it back to the shore but as I pulled myself out of the water the top of my bathing suit was at my waist and I was bleeding on my chest where it had scraped against the bottom.
From this moment on, Damian and I have a great deal of respect for the power of the ocean. Today I won’t go in past my shins. It does not stop me from enjoying the sounds and the smell and those early morning walks along the waters edge before the world gets up and starts their day all over again.
I know this coming week with my children and grandchildren will charge up my lonely tanks so life won’t feel so empty enabling me to float through the rest of the summer knowing I have a wonderful, loving family.
No comments:
Post a Comment