Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Life is a Beach

There is nothing (and I mean nothing) like the silence when people you adore leave the house after a good visit, and you are left all alone. In a family our size, this happens with regularity, and I’m still not used to it.

As I write this, I am sitting on our eerily quiet porch in Lewes.  I cherish having morning coffee out here, but really? I love sharing this view, this experience, with the ones I love far more. On my own, I am forever turning to invisible companions and saying, “Would you look at that?” (luckily I have a hubby who knows not to dial 911 at these moments).
Our porch. How lucky are we??

I vividly remember my mom Joanie visiting us from Atlanta back in the 1980’s. She loved the beach almost as much as I do, and she treasured these summer weeks with us at the Delaware shore. Inevitably, her departure would trigger a full day of tears and melancholy. Same with my sister C. I always treated these goodbyes as final, and mourned as if I’d never see these people again.  It took the next wave of visitors to start to lift the fog of sorrow. `

Just said farewell to Rose and Evan, after a wonderful four-day reunion. Things could not have gone better, truly. No bickering, no tense moments. MUCH laughter. We ate Grotto Pizza and King’s Ice Cream and homemade crabcakes. We played a rousing game of Hearts one evening. We ran on the boardwalk in the early morning. One night, we checked out a Rehoboth club, and enjoyed hearing our talented friend Karen Murdock sing for the patrons. We even toured a local brewery! Add that to four days of perfect beach weather and what do you have? The glow of satisfaction? Nope! A weepy mom!! Not content to just savor the good times, I insist on adding a side dish of sad.

Rehoboth/Lewes is not only the source of present joys and sorrows: we have a 33 year history in this place. I trudge over the dunes at Park Ave. beach and am instantly transported back to holding tiny Sheridan’s hand on the same walk. I stroll past Funland on the boardwalk and the shrieks of joy bring me right back to my toddlers’ similar shrieks (usually of joy, but once, my over-stimulated offspring grappled for the wheel of the car ride and its exciting buzzer-horn. As I watched, aghast, four year old Sher leaned over and bit two year old Evan!)

Does anyone else have this weird reaction to the high points of life? Am I the only one who wastes the precious moments with dread that they will soon be over?

So here I am, watching the sun setting over the water. The sun doesn’t cry. The sun also rises. Tonight, I think I will have a glass of wine and relish the days just past, and try to be confident that other wonderful days are ahead for me and my loved ones.

At Aqua Restaurant, Rehoboth Beach

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