At the sound….

 

 

 

 

It was a lovely few days at the family fishing cabin on the sound. We learned that we can fit 2 adults, one toddler, and one baby into a 2 man ocean kayak… as long as the baby is securely strapped to his mommy’s chest in a baby Bjorn, and as long as we don’t go out into deep water.

We like to take it easy these days when we go away. No whirlwind tours or sightseeing excursions for us…. Nope, just lots of naps and Scrabble and fiction and playdough and hours in the water. And I do mean hours. Seth set a new record for himself this time. He may be part fish.

The “big beach” on Emerald Isle was not a hit, though. They were both a little bit afraid of the waves. We walked on the beach one evening, and Seth fell down in fright when a wave unexpectedly came up to where he was standing. He was soaked and sandy and crying… and we decided that we’d stick with the “little beach” for the rest of the trip. Besides, walking on the beach feels more like a backpacking trip up a mountain when you’re each carrying at least 20 lb. of child…

Seth came to like the tiny fish that tend to hang around your feet and ankles on a calm day in the sound. David told him they were trying to “tickle him,” and that was good enough for him to decide to make friends. And we enjoyed seeing a school of dolphins come through… after I found out that those dark fins weren’t sharks.

The cabin is rustic. Think wood paneling, water stained ceilings, and decor that hasn’t changed much in 40 years. Add in an iron bacteria well problem that dyed my hair, our greasy bodies, and some of our clothes a lovely shade of red, and we’re not talking luxury accommodations here. But Dad assures me the bacteria will be taken care of, we got to use the shower at a neighbor’s house, and nobody drank the water, so we’re all good. (My hair is getting back to normal, so that’s why I can afford to be gracious. =)

There’s something nice about being in a place that, despite its little inconveniences, has always felt like home to me. My boys swim in the same salt water that my brother and I did. I cook dinner in the same small kitchen that my mom used when we were growing up. Another generation of children will stub their toes on the oyster rocks. Awww. =)

Sometimes a place is more than just a place… its a tradition, a continuation and a building of new memories on the backs of old ones. I’m glad it’s still there for us. We love you, Breezy Point.