It was 18 years ago — June of 2010 — when our little family of three packed up the Jeep and moseyed on down to Fort Morgan, Alabama for a beach vacation. We had rented a tiny seafoam green beach house slap dab out on the beach. We were hooked big time.
Our daughter was only seven and had never been on a vacation of more than a couple of days. She had never stayed in a beach house on the beach, nor had her mom and dad. We rode waves, and sand surfed, and went crabbing under the light of a full moon. We ate everything we could lay our hands on and basked in the sun all day long.
We had not been there long before plans for the next year were well underway. The next year rolled around and we packed up about twice as much “stuff,” perhaps three times, and headed back to our little piece of heaven.
We followed the same routine for several years — adding more and more to the load each time — and then in 2005 we thought about who we might bring back with us. We opted to give Nanny and Paw, my parents, a try and really enjoyed ourselves in spite of hurricanes Cindy and Dennis that week.
The following year we moved next door to a little pink house that was about the same size, but had a larger deck and bunk room where we could stack a load of teenage girls. That was quite the experience.
We vacationed that way for a couple of years and then at some point moved on up to an even bigger house, with an even bigger deck, and loaded it up with some more young ladies.
The next year we opted for the family route again, and having already moved to the big house, filled it up with Nanny and Paw and one of my brothers and his family as well. We all frolicked and played in the surf, and built elaborate sand castles in the sand.
By that time we had started hauling so much gear to the beach that we had the Expedition loaded down and our belongings tied on the top, and on a back end carrier, and looked much like The Beverly Hillbillies when they moved to Beverly Hills. But Lord have mercy did we have fun.
At some point, somewhere down the line, everybody grew up on us. Our little girl was not a little girl anymore, and Nanny and Paw didn’t travel as well anymore, and my brother and his family moved away to Chattanooga. It was kind of sad, but wife, Danny, and I knew that our little slice of paradise felt just as good to us as it ever did.
But then, with it being just the two of us, that big ole — and old — house we had migrated up to began to seem like it was just too much for two. In 2016 we started walking the beach looking for somewhere to downsize to for the rest of our vacationing days, and we found the perfect place.
Last year we moved into a tiny little white house with just one bedroom and a perfect deck for people watching. It has a great big shower under the house and all the amenities of home, but we loaded up a pretty good load again anyway.
I had taken on a kayak by then and with it tied on top of the new Jeep we were starting to look somewhat like the days of old once more. We were home, though, finally settled into the perfect place.
As a matter of fact, as you are reading this we are there once again. Our big round green tent is out on the water’s edge and it is surrounded by straw covered beach unbrellas. We’re laid back in our beach chairs, books in hand, watching the dolphins swim one way in the morning and back the other in the afternoon.
The ribs, and chicken, and barbecue have all been mighty fine, and Friday night’s filet mignon will be perfect I feel sure. The sun is hot, the sand is white, the water is clear, and thank God in the real Heaven above that the two of us have made it back to our little bit of heaven on earth once again!
I do still miss the girl child though.
