I grew up going to Florida nearly every year with my mother, grandparents, aunt, and cousins. Grandma grew up in Pensacola, so we would go down to visit family and play on the beach. My memories from those trips consist of happy nights snuggled in homemade afghans at Aunt Marylou's house, playing in the red dirt of her fire-aunt infested backyard, and picking up seashells on the beach. Most of my beach memories include my cousin Melody.
For visual reference, Melody is on the left, next to Harvey.
For many years, we would go to Pensacola to see family, then head over to Panama City for our relaxing beach time (this was when it was just starting to become an airbrushing, go-carting tourist trap. don't judge). I have great memories of Melody and I playing in the surf for hours, building sandcastles, getting eaten alive by sand fleas, and even dancing around in our matching grass skirts. Our annual trips got more infrequent as all of us grandkids got older, and the long car rides got to be too much for my grandfather.
My grandfather passed away several years ago, but my Grandma still likes to go back to Pensacola every couple of years visit her nieces, and be reminded of the place she and Grandpa met, I think. Last week my mom, aunt, and I had the privilege of joining her on such a pilgrimage.
I'd had high hopes for the trip, because of all those wonderful memories. But wasn't everything I'd hoped it would be.
Grandma was sick, and wasn't quite herself. In between coughing fits, she was bossy and irritable. I probably would have been, too, if I was 80 years old and felt as bad as she did. Mom and my aunt were both stuffy and snoring, so no one slept a whole lot. Melody wasn't there, neither was my little brother. Neither was Grandpa. I had no desire to collect shells, because they didn't match my house's decor (snooty, huh). This trip was just different. I wasn't a kid anymore.
There were many really good things about the trip, too. The beach was beautiful and clean, still unspoiled by the coming oil slick. The weather was perfect. The hotel was great, with a nice little pool and a great view. We saw amazing sunsets. We got to visit with family. I got to talk with my aunt a lot, which I don't think I've been able to do it years. I think I had the most fun of the whole trip when mom and I went out to the beach by ourselves on our last evening, walked along collecting shells for a craft project she wanted to work on, watched the sunset, and entertained ourselves by setting the camera's timer and attempting the perfect jumping-in-the-sand photo.
We can't get the past back, obviously. But the present can be good, too. And I'm so grateful for such wonderful grandparents, who took the time to share their past and present.
And, in case you're wondering, our timer photos were hilarious, if unsuccessful. :)
For many years, we would go to Pensacola to see family, then head over to Panama City for our relaxing beach time (this was when it was just starting to become an airbrushing, go-carting tourist trap. don't judge). I have great memories of Melody and I playing in the surf for hours, building sandcastles, getting eaten alive by sand fleas, and even dancing around in our matching grass skirts. Our annual trips got more infrequent as all of us grandkids got older, and the long car rides got to be too much for my grandfather.
My grandfather passed away several years ago, but my Grandma still likes to go back to Pensacola every couple of years visit her nieces, and be reminded of the place she and Grandpa met, I think. Last week my mom, aunt, and I had the privilege of joining her on such a pilgrimage.
I'd had high hopes for the trip, because of all those wonderful memories. But wasn't everything I'd hoped it would be.
Grandma was sick, and wasn't quite herself. In between coughing fits, she was bossy and irritable. I probably would have been, too, if I was 80 years old and felt as bad as she did. Mom and my aunt were both stuffy and snoring, so no one slept a whole lot. Melody wasn't there, neither was my little brother. Neither was Grandpa. I had no desire to collect shells, because they didn't match my house's decor (snooty, huh). This trip was just different. I wasn't a kid anymore.
There were many really good things about the trip, too. The beach was beautiful and clean, still unspoiled by the coming oil slick. The weather was perfect. The hotel was great, with a nice little pool and a great view. We saw amazing sunsets. We got to visit with family. I got to talk with my aunt a lot, which I don't think I've been able to do it years. I think I had the most fun of the whole trip when mom and I went out to the beach by ourselves on our last evening, walked along collecting shells for a craft project she wanted to work on, watched the sunset, and entertained ourselves by setting the camera's timer and attempting the perfect jumping-in-the-sand photo.
We can't get the past back, obviously. But the present can be good, too. And I'm so grateful for such wonderful grandparents, who took the time to share their past and present.
And, in case you're wondering, our timer photos were hilarious, if unsuccessful. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment