Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Diagnostic Essay Revised - 12/1/09

The Beach House
Vacation. Just that word will get me excited. I love going away. The thought of just being away from the world and your normal everyday life is so exciting. I can’t say there is one vacation in particular that was my “favorite” growing up. Growing up in New Jersey, our family always had a special place we would go for vacation. It was a place where all troubles and daily routines were put aside and left behind at home. That place was our family beach house in Lavalette, NJ.
It was a simple place. It was a small bungalow built in the 1950s and my grandparents, my father’s parents, bought it as a place to bring the whole family together to spend some time and to have a place where the worries and stresses of home were left there. The summer breeze would come through the house and you would constantly smell the ocean and feel the moist damp air on the sheets while you slept. It was perfect.
As far back as I could remember I can see myself sitting there with my family hearing the waves and smelling the ocean. Typical days would consist of a good eight hour day at the beach. We would swim in the cool ocean until we were water logged and so salty. Collecting seashells would be another favorite past time, always looking to find the biggest, best one to go home later and paint them all the colors of the rainbow. Reading on the beach was so relaxing. I would get lost in my books but would always be aware of the summer breeze rustling my pages and the smell of the ocean air.
The nights were most memorable. I can hear the boardwalk from afar. The sound of the carousel and the peoples screams from the rides. I smell the boardwalk food consisting of pizza, hotdogs and cotton candy. Walking through the boardwalk and playing each game stand hoping to take home the biggest stuffed animal or the new “hip” toy of that year, would be a highlight of the night. We would go out to dinner and enjoy the best seafood I have ever eaten. I can taste the mouth watering lobster melting in my mouth. We would play miniature golf in hopes you would be the winner of the family so you had bragging rights for the night.
My sister and I would take long walks on the beach in the evening. We would be all beached out still in our salty, damp bathing suits and sunburned from beaching it all day. I could feel that same summer breeze and smell that salty air. I hear the seagulls up above and see the clearing of the beaches, maybe only a few scattered families left. My sister and I would embark on conversations about life. We would talk about our futures and promised each other when we grew up and have families of our own we would still take trips to the beach house to relive our youth and have our families a part of what made our childhood so special.
I take that oath with me. Although I am older now and married and have a family of my own, I made it a point to introduce the beach house, such a wonderful place to my new family. I don’t get to go as much, but those memories are with me everyday. I hear them, I see them and I smell them. Writing this actually makes me nostalgic for those days, but I am happy to have them close to my heart.

1 comment:

  1. You make it sound like those days where a person sleeps really well at night after a lot of time in the sun and surf. You've captured that feeling nicely. Keep writing.

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