At the end of Bon Voyage, Pittsfield week came Howdy ho, Cape Cod week. (Listen, some of us know how to “summer,” amiright?) Even though my family is sporadically far-flung and the majority of us have established households, it felt really good to spend our vacation in the spot that my Dad adored (and made us promise to visit this August), spread his ashes in the part of the ocean he loved best, and be together for reasons neither funereal nor matrimonial nor house-clearing-out-ish.
Here’s a tiny smattering of stuff I realized:
- A turn of the century manor house, one that may be lacking in plaster work but has nooks and mystery to spare, might be considered spooky if placed in the middle of the forest. But when gracing a private beach with windows and porches that open directly to ocean breezes? That’s romantic and charming.
- 16 family members get along quite nicely when sharing an ocean-front abode.
- The 17th family member creates a razor-edged, Dad-sized hole that no amount of guitar strumming, shandy sipping, or wave cresting can even begin to soften.
- Sandbars make marine biologists out of all of us. Not to mention hopeful pet-owners. (“Just one small hermit crab?”)
- Even though the wi-fi is laughable, beach chair telecommuting makes the barrage of emails akin to a Corona commercial.
- My Mom is just such a great cook. (So are my sisters.)
- My Dad is so, so present. He’s good about sending signs, reenforcing luck, and hanging out with us in comforting, so-close-to-tangible ways.
- Seven tiny cousins reaffirmed that Ghost Writer, while a touch dated, is still obsessively watchable.
- Susannah is a mermaid.
- Nora is a comic book geek.
- Jasper sleeps well in closets.
- I have no natural cut-off when it comes to lobster rolls.
- P.J. is a pretty serene guy when his family consists of aired-out mermaids, bookworms, and well-rested seafood connoisseurs.
- The beach where my sisters and I grew up is just as magical, just as warm, and just as riddled with fiddler crabs (if you’re quiet, which we never are) as the days when we were the sandbar marine biologists and mermaids.
- Bonfires and salt water create a perfume that is decidedly “summer” and tragically short-lived.
- And I miss it already.
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