This past week Dave and I have been enjoying the wonders of North Carolina’s Outer Banks with Bonnie, Jim, Seth and Caleb along with Jim’s mother Marianne and niece Valerie. It is a tradition we have celebrated for just about five years, give or take. Each year Bonnie scopes out the available houses in our price range, narrows the field down to two or three and we vote on which house will be our beach home for the week.
In the past our vacations have been at the end of August, when the rates dip just before Labor Day. Two years ago we stayed in a beautiful home called “Rose Cottage”; a sumptuous ocean front manse with multiple levels and lots of living area. Two wide decks lined the back of each floor overlooking the pool and hot tub and ocean over the dune line. Sadly our time was cut short by the approach of Hurricane Earl and we had to evacuate. Earl wasn’t as big and bad as feared and because we all lived close by we were able to return the next day and pick up where we left off.
Last year the Berrymans vacationed in Disneyworld and we moved to Charlottesville so our beach trip didn’t happen. Not wanting to run the risk of facing another evacuation, we decided to come down here earlier in the hurricane season. Prices being higher, and ocean front homes like Rose Cottage way out of our price range, this year’s house is just a little further south, off the beach but backing up to the Cape Hatteras National Seashore.
This year’s home, “Kinsale”, is lovely but lacks sufficient living space for eight people to spread out. While there are multiple decks as well as a crow’s nest, the one great room can get pretty loud in the evenings when competition erupts between conversations and the TV.
Fortunately we don’t spend the majority of our time indoors. With a beach access handily located across the street, we form a daily caravan of towel bearing beach beasts with cart in tow carrying a variety of chairs, boogie boards, umbrella and sand engineering equipment. Once our encampment is established, Seth begins his shell hunt, Caleb heads for the water and the rest of us plop in our chairs to nap or read.
After some time in the sun and we are too hot to take the sun any longer, we pad down to the water. Shyly, we allow the first waves to tickle our toes. Then, after a few seconds of easing into the surf, a wave will break on us, wetting us down in preparation for full wave riding. Sucking in our breath as our warm blooded bodies adapt to the colder ocean temperature, we are ready to go.
I am not a great swimmer, but I there are few things in this world I enjoy more than bobbing in the waves. When I am in the ocean, it is as if all the times I’ve jumped into a wave are rolled into one. I am no longer Monica, “middle aged woman closer to sixty than I ever imagined”, I am “just Monica”, ageless and content, weightless and at peace. I’m not sure how long I can last out in the surf because I always go back in when my buddies do, but I know that I’m not really ready to go. I’m left wanting more.
Today is our last day here. It is a day of gathering together our belongings which have spread throughout this house making it our home this week. Following a morning dip, we will head over to Manteo for lunch. Tomorrow morning we will wake early, pack up our cars and head home. It has been a great week and has passed so quickly. I’m not sure I’m really ready to go home yet. Again, I’m left wanting more.
