I learned a few years ago not to complain to people who aren't at the beach about having to leave the beach. They are the least sympathetic crowd. Really, there's no one who wants to hear you whine about how hard it was to leave the sand and sea after a few months. That look on their faces is not at all sympathy. If you look closely, you'll be able to identify the secret loathing. I used to dread when other friends would explain to new people I met how we'd be gone ALL SUMMER because that's really no way to introduce yourself and because I never felt entitled to such a wonderful existence, just fortunate.
This is an atypical summer for us. Olivia's at the age where she's becoming involved in lots of extracurricular activities so that meant cutting the beach time short this year (and maybe for a few more). I have to remind myself that it's temporary. When we first started (almost 10 years ago?) spending summers at the beach I imagined that we'd always do that. And I also did that thing that humans do and caught up thinking that time away from the water was not valuable time. It's this game of opposites all humans do. If one place is good, the other must be miserable. If one spouse is good, the ex must be horrible. The truth, in my experience, is that I have 365 days a year and I'd like to enjoy most of them so it doesn't work, even just as a practical matter, to offhandedly accept that the other 42 weeks of the year must inherently be horrible if these 10 weeks are so wonderful. Talk about undermining your own happiness.
Saying goodbye to the sand and our friends is never easy. We just all pretend like it's not happening. It was a good day to leave, though, because of the torrential downpour. Normally Megan waves at the ferry and shouts M-M-MISSSSSS YOUUUUUU until we are out of sight, but that morning she couldn't make herself get out of bed for the ritual goodbye. That's okay because the last goodbye with Kenny and Christopher caused her to sob and eat a half gallon of ice cream, crash in the bed and then take her spaghetti dinner into the bathroom and lock the door. This is a method for resolving grief that I fully endorse incidentally.
So we ripped the bandaid off, hugged our friends and shook the sand off for the 8 hour return drive home. The miracle that occurred in the car was that Olivia and I spent hours enjoying THE SAME MUSIC. I know. We thought this would never happen, but there it was. 8 hours of togetherness and neither of us were miserable. We are used to being together and it's not uncommon for us to enjoy some of the same music, but generally an agreeable ride involves me getting comfortable with lyrics that seem horribly disquieting coming from a 12 year old girl's mouth. No parent wants to hear her daughter mindlessly singing, "When you're ready come and get it." Or even better, "I gotta have youuuuu..." Ugh. I should clarify that Olivia has a wide range of musical interests. She's just as likely to sing Johnny Cash as she is AC/DC. She can belt out a little Sheryl Crow and it doesn't keep her from learning all of the words to Macklemore's latest. Thank God she's always been skeptical of Miley Cyrus and all the other Disney princesses. Still, it's not uncommon for me to spend the drive home frequently changing stations to find one song that we both can nod our heads to.
Anyway, I had loaded up on Kate Campbell music because SHE'S COMING TO SING AT MY HOUSE. Let me say that again. OH MY GOD KATE CAMPBELL IS COMING TO SING IN MY HOUSE. She does house concerts and I'm beyond excited that she's got time in October to swing by and sing and visit with my friends (let me know if you wanna come). I wanted to familiarize myself with more of her music and Olivia didn't object so we started listening together. She loves different ones than I love, but we both sang a little and laughed a little and even cried a little at the same ones. We took a Kate break and after I ran into the restroom at a convenience store I returned to the car to find her shouting at an XM station, "GIVE ME SOME LYRICS THAT MEAN SOMETHING PEOPLE." I'm not sure I've ever had a prouder moment.
And here we are. No sand, no salt water, no late nights, but still, lots to look forward to and lots to be happy about in Rome, GA. All of the pets in the house are chattering about our return and Kenny's beyond excited that the refrigerator is now miraculously full. Keep you posted on the transition.
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