Visiting The Beach

Frances and I had some gas in the car and a place to stay, so we drove to the beach for the weekend. 

The beach holds fond memories for us.  We would spend weeks there with friends when Molly was in preschool.   We know where the grocery store is, have a favorite place to buy caramel corn, and prefer a particular beach-front shop for coffee in the morning.  It is familiar.

Returning to familiar places is tricky.  There – right there – is the playground Molly used to play on.  Remember how she dominated on the monkey bars?  And gee, those steps?  Didn’t we take a picture of all the kids wearing their tye dyed t-shirts sitting on those steps?  I sure hope the owners got the dye off the driveway;  I don’t think we managed to clean all of it up.

But that nostalgia for time gone by was part of the deal from the beginning.  Our remembrances are tinged with a particular loss, but all of the parents from those trips taken 15 years ago are experiencing waves of nostalgia.   That period of our lives is over; none of our children are still playing on the monkey bars. 

Frances and I had a good time.  We toasted each other and time gone by.  There was comfort in the familiar and while I won’t say that we necessarily felt Molly’s presence, we knew she had been there and been happy.  And that was enough.