You're 12 years old, sitting on a beach, in a state six hours away from home, surrounded by some of the funniest, most knowledgeable, and enjoyable people you know. After hours of riding waves, you happily pop a squat next to your closest cousin. Your only worries at this point in your life consist of what you're going to eat for dessert and what time you get to go on the flying umbrella ride at the boardwalk. The biggest decisions you have to make involve whether to spend the money your parents gave you on French fries or cotton candy. These two weeks are the best of the whole year, because they're spent in your favorite place in the whole world. The little beach town has come to feel like it lives its days in a protective bubble in which nothing bad can ever occur.
Fast-forward.
You're 19 years old, sitting on a beach, in a state six hours away from home, after being dropped off by your grandparents and sitting next to that same closest cousin. Swimming in the ocean is only done for short periods of time. Worries consist of body image, boy troubles and the ever-looming promise of college debt right around the corner. Decisions most likely always involve deciding on which is the cheapest option -- when it comes to anything and everything. This time, what used to be the best two weeks of your life has been shortened to six days, because that's all that could be taken off from work. But even with all these changes, this little beach town still feels like it lives its days in a protective bubble in which nothing bad can ever occur.
My, oh my, how everything has changed. But has it?
Returning to the place you once spent so many days as a young child playing on the beach, as a young adult, is stranger than I could imagine. It's like walking in a constant haze of nostalgia everywhere you go, but this nostalgic feeling is interrupted by the reality that nothing in your life is the same as it was. The physicality of the town has only changed in the slightest because of the occasional new restaurant or rental home, but somehow it all feels so different. While laying on the beach in the same exact spot I had all those years before, the feeling was completely new. At first the feeling was definitely a little upsetting until I realized that this change does not have to be bad, but seen as a new adventure in a familiar town. This unexpected experience caused the most used phrase over this vacation to be, "This is so weird!" It's the sensation of both familiar and unfamiliar that makes the whole experience so refreshing and humbling. It caused the realization that this little town kept thriving, even though I expected it to stop in its tracks when I left for the last time years ago. We passed by the house we used to rent only to see a whole new family people-watching on the front porch. This encounter felt like the turning of a new page and suddenly, the little family beach town felt like a whole new experience all over again.
