As a kid, we used to spend a few weeks in the summer on vacation. Usually, these vacations took us to the beaches of Florida, a few times we went to London, and a few times we visited other states in the U.S.
While I always love to reminisce about being on those white sand beaches with the calm, clear water, what I always think about first is the anticipation leading up to actually leaving for a vacation. I remember the feeling of wanting to pack as soon as I found out that we were going on the trip, the excitement of going to bed the night before knowing we’d be waking up at some hour that I can only describe now as ungodly.
But back then, I didn’t care. I loved getting up and hitting the road before the sun came up. I loved the smell of McDonald’s coffee and the taste of on-the-go Egg McMuffins. I loved the feeling of laying down flat in the car, reading a book, or watching the massive trees of East Texas flying by the window. The longer the road trip, the better.
Summer mornings remind of me being at our final destination, a condo by the beach. It’s something about the cool morning air, the soft light, the smell of dew and coffee that always lets me see the memories so clearly. It’s something about having the air conditioning on so that when you come inside from the heat, you’re immediately freezing cold, cold enough to put on some layers, cold enough to make your newly washed hair feel like ice on your head.
Memories of standing on a balcony, 10 stories up, looking at the ocean and listening to the thunderous symphony of waves crest and fall against the sand. Memories of watching the maintenance men from the resort comb the sand, clean it up for a new day of lounging and fun. Memories of my mom waking up early and heading down to the beach to snag us a prime spot where we could stake our umbrella and chairs, build sandcastles, and be situated perfectly between the pool and the ocean.