The end of a relaxing vacation and return to normal life is always depressing to me. And apparently, it is also depressing to our son who spent yesterday attempting to readjust to normal life. Yet, as depressing as it is now, vacation was definitely what I think we all needed, my whole family that is. This vacation was one of the more relaxing ones that I have been on, even with a 22 month old in tow, running around, and enjoying every minute of family time. As I mentioned before we left, we (meaning my parents, my brother and his girlfriend, and my wife, son, and myself) were out on Cape Cod for the week. My parents rented a house on a private beach in Chatham that was more than we could have asked for. The house was nice, but the big draw was being a hundred feet from a private beach where the largest number of people we saw at one time was about 10. That is a far cry from the hundreds we saw on the one day we traveled to a different beach and actually paid for parking. From the moment we got there, relaxation kicked in, all thoughts of life back home vanished, and beach mode set in. For those of you that don't know, I am a beach bum at heart. This past week I was down at the beach for at least 4-5 hours, sometimes more, every day. We were always the first ones down there, usually the first to leave because of our son, but there was always a second trip down. It turns out that our son is a complete beach bum as well. As he and I were always the first ones up at 5:30 in the morning, we got the unique experience of seeing the sunrise every day on the beach. While I would have gone down there anyway to see the sunrise, our son, upon coming downstairs from our room, went right for the door and wanted to go down to the water (lolo as he calls it) and the beach (be in his talk). So at 5:30 every morning, I would hoist him up on my shoulders and we would head down to walk on the beach for a half hour to 45 minutes. We had nothing planned, it was just my son and I walking, letting the early morning sun warm our faces, and searching through all the seaweed that would get washed up on shore from the previous night for any treasures. The beach and ocean were like a magnet for our son. He always wanted to go down there and never really wanted to leave.
It wasn't just the beach and water that he loved, but just walking itself. After breakfast every day, he would embark on a second journey with his grandpa around the neighborhood. They would be gone for about an hour every day, sometimes during which I would head down to the water for an early morning swim. Sure, the water was a little brisk, but it was salt water and I needed to swim in it as much as possible. There are few things I love more than just floating in the ocean, bobbing up and down in the swells, and letting the currents drag me to and fro. I think it is safe to say that I spent more time in the water than any other member of my family. While my son loved the water, the waves were a tad bit big for him and he needed to be held when we went in more than a few feet. As such, he never stayed in for that long. Instead, he would go swimming in the sand, literally. The one day we went to a different beach on the ocean that wasn't partially protected like our private beach was, our son had a field day in the sand. Unlike our beach, the one on the ocean had cleaner sand, far fewer sea shells, and was much softer. Watching him in that sand was like watching a little kid play in the snow. He rolled around in it, grabbed handfuls and threw them over his head, crawled through it, and overall just had a blast. He had sand in more places than I knew he had on his body. But he never complained a second about it. When we went to the ocean beach, I wondered how he would do in the larger swells that reached about 3-4 feet in height as they crashed. Well, as I held him while the waves crashed around us, he absolutely loved it. He would hold on tight as the wave crashed into us, soaking us completely, and then point to the next one coming in. We stood there at times for almost half an hour just letting waves crash into us. It was pure joy to be with him all week long, see how much he loved the beach, and spend time with him playing in the sand.
We had good weather the entire week except for the last day which turned out to be a bit rainy and stormy. It wasn't a perpetual rain that soaked everything all day, but rather a more periodic rain with occasional breaks in the clouds. Looking out at the ocean from our house, all we could see were white caps. The sea was churning and frothing and I wanted nothing more than to go swimming in it. I know, sounds a bit crazy, but I managed to drag my brother in to go boarding with me. (Trust me, it didn't take that much convincing) I wasn't particularly keen on going in by myself as the swells were between 4 and 6 feet on the open water, but with my brother who was a lifeguard, I had no worries. We both swam out, got tossed and churned in the waves, and actually swam out over a hundred yards just to see if there was a sandbar where we thought there might be one. It took about half hour of swimming to reach the buoy that marked the sandbar, but we got there, and ascertained that there was indeed a sandbar. All in all, I had a blast in the stormy waters and would do it again in a heartbeat. Then the week came to an end and and life returned to normal, poo poo. I was going to write about every day of our vacation individually on my blog when we got back, but looking back at our week away, we did pretty much the same thing every day (which will be detailed tomorrow in more depth than today). So for now, I must get my but in gear and prepare to head to work. While I enjoy working, I would much rather just lay on a beach all day. But I guess that is what retirement is for. For now, I need to make the money to pay the bills and keep the beach in my mind as my anchor. My post vacation depression is slowly lifting, however I feel it will take at least a week before I am back to normal. Oh well, time to refill the coffee cup.
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