A few days ago, I was at the beach. I spent my last few minutes of our vacation sitting out on the patio of the condo we rent every summer. I'm always sad to leave our beach cocoon, and this time was especially bittersweet. We'd been down three times since June, and this trip would be the last of the season. And, when I got home, I wouldn't be returning to school as I had for nearly all of my life. Instead, I'd be embarking on a new adventure.
And for those last few moments at the shore, the patio was where I most wanted to be. We spend so much time out there each summer, and it's truly my favorite spot. This summer, I sat out there on Sunday night, while my daughter and her friend feverishly attacked their phones in search of their ninth grade schedules. I sat out there alone each morning while my husband enjoyed his early morning beach visit and the girls were still asleep. I sat out there most evenings with my husband as he read - then dozed - at the end of a day filled with sun, sand and relaxation. Outside, yet screened in, the porch is truly an extension of both the condo and the beach itself, a bridge from one to the other.
The year that separates this beach trip from the next one will be filled with adventures I can only imagine. Feeling a little blue as I enjoyed my something borrowed for just a little while longer, I tried to focus on the joys of our beach trip and the something new that lay ahead. Still, the tears came, leaving me to embrace the sadness in honor of the something old I am leaving behind.