I love the beach. I know, everyone does. But really, I mean it. Like it does something to my soul. I went on my first family beach trip when I was three. My family had started going years before that. I have quite a few memories of that trip, but the ones that stand out are throwing sand in my brother's eyes, and the smell of crab boiling in our beach house. That smell caused my mother, sisters and I to go to McDonald's for supper. Even though those seem like negative memories, I look back on it fondly. When I was a teen, we started going with my aunt and uncle and their kids. We were always so excited to go. As soon as we crossed the Baldwin County line, we were rolling down our windows to see if we could smell the ocean. Just past Montgomery, we would look for the beautiful Spanish moss growing in the live oak trees, because that meant we were that much closer to our beloved beach. I would sniff my swimsuits after coming back to see how many washings the salt smell would make it through. We would watch our vacation videos over and over again, as if they were Oscar worthy. The last beach trip I went on with my family was when I was 18. I remember laughing until I couldn't breathe, every single day, several times a day. My dad found out he had cancer just about 6 months later. We never went to the beach together again. My dad loved the beach and ocean more than anyone I know. He would just stand by himself and look at it for what seemed like hours. Going to the beach after he passed was painful. A year after he passed away, I went on my honeymoon to the beach. We had a great time, but if I allowed myself to be still for too long, to think about it too much, it hurt. The years went by, and I still went to the beach, but it was never the same. Then my aunt died of cancer, then my grandmother died, then my cousin who was like my brother, was killed in a car accident. Years later, my uncle died. Over the years, my cousins and I drifted apart. Mostly only in physical proximity, but life has handed some of these people a lot of heartbreak. I continued to go to the beach, but there was always something missing.
After quitting my job to stay home and raise babies, money for beach vacations has been scarce. Seven years after our last beach vacation, and four years since even laying eyes on it, we had the opportunity to spend a week in a beachfront condo in Perdido Key. I felt like I was seeing an old, best friend, that I had missed very much. I wanted to get down and kiss the sand. I found myself just standing around, drinking it all in, like someone else I knew long ago. Seeing my kids enjoy it made me feel like it had all come full circle. This time when sadness tried to come, all I could do was smile at the memories of back then, and smile at the new memories being made with my own children. My daddy sure would have enjoyed my kids, especially taking them to the beach. I know he would be pleased that I am carrying on the Smith family beach tradition. Ahhh....do you smell that?
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