My upcoming annual summer beach trip may be my last. Every August since I was six months old, I’ve traveled with my family to spend a week at the beach in Nags Head, North Carolina. Every time I walk into my Grammy’s time share, and the smell of salt, the blast of air conditioning, and the familiar furniture hits me, I think, “This is my home away from home.”
Since I live on the East Coast, I know how lucky I am to be in such close proximity to so many different beaches. I know I’ve been to the beach more times than most people have in their lifetime. It still shocks me when someone says that they’ve never been to the beach. Then I think about the fact that most of America is landlocked. The average American does not have the opportunity to fly to one of the coasts every year. The beach is a luxury. But to me, the beach is a constant.
I usually only see my extended family over the holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays. But the beach is a whole week spent with my family, at least the extended family on my dad’s side. We stop by the same farmer’s market to get fresh produce for the week. I watch my brother and my cousin dig elaborate holes in the sand together. If the waves are large enough, we hop onto our boogie boards and let them push us to shore over and over. At night, we take walks and look for sand crabs scurrying around our feet. In recent years, I lie on a towel and devour novels. I scribble in a notebook or lie with my eyes closed, listening to the all-knowing waves. And, of course, I help prepare sandwiches to carry onto the beach for lunch and I help cook dinner.
To me, every beach trip was perfect, even if, realistically, it wasn’t. We drove to North Carolina for one of my very first beach trips only to turn right back around due to a hurricane. We have battled our fair share of hurricanes. One year, Hurricane Alex raged over the ocean and caused giant waves to spew onto the sand. We spent our vacation time crafting, watching movies, and playing board games. I laid in bed each night and listened to the distinct whistle of hurricane-wind. When I was a kid, one of my siblings or my cousins would always catch a cold or become ill. It was a miracle year when someone didn't get hurt or sick.
Despite our obstacles, we still came together each year to see what others may not be fortunate enough to see: the ocean. I can’t imagine not knowing the difference between dry sand and warm sand under my feet, or not knowing how to dip my boogie board down or up in order to catch a wave. I can’t imagine not knowing how to do dig into wet sand to find sand fleas, how to spot mother-of-pearls, or how to see a storm coming across the water hours before it hits.
When my older cousin got married and started having kids, I knew that our two time shares wouldn’t have enough room to house all of us plus the new generation. There was a time when I thought that I would be a kid forever, or a teenager forever, god forbid. But I graduate less than a year from now, and who knows where my future job will take me. However, I do know that Nags Head will always be my second home.
