I visit the east coast about once a year.
This year we had a chance to spend time in my true stomping grounds… the stretch of beach I lived on, grew on, learned on, romped on, knew, inch for inch, as well as any landscape I will ever know.
The endless days, always the same, always different. Seaweed or jellyfish, waves or calm, high tides or low…
It’s so important to me that Alden know our family.
I was a fly in amber, opening cupboards, closets, drawers. Racking my brain for the names of people I delivered papers to, trick-or-treated at, went to school with.
I remember when the one-and-a-half blocks to the beach felt LONG… endless afternoons scooching barefoot home on the white-painted cross-walks and on the grassy side-strip rather than the hot asphalt of street and sidewalk.
I knew this stretch of beach like a family member.