Looking back on all the summer's I have had, it is hard to choose just one memory. Despite all the good times, there is one memory that seem to float up to the surface of my mind and put a smile on my face.
Growing up in a small beach town on the coast of North Carolina made access to the beach almost an every weekend habit. I remember waking up early to the sound of Dad throwing bags of ice in the cooler in the kitchen. With my bedroom being above the kitchen this sound was like an alarm clock to me. Not the annoying buzzing sound that alarms make, but the sound of something exciting. It was time to get ready and go out on the boat! Mom would always find time to do what I wanted the most. Ploping me down in the middle of the kitchen on a stool, I'd always ask her to do my hair in "pig tails" because I thought it matched my binki. I was eight and thought I had fashion sense. Our boats name was called the "Miss Bee" but my sisters and I called it the honey bee. My family and I would race over to one of the small, isolated island and make camp for the day. The sun shining down on us, the breeze on our faces, and the smell of salt in our lungs was the best feeling anyone could give us.
My uncle would gather us together and we would walk along the muddy banks listening to old story of Black Beard, the Pirate. I would always look out in the ocean where his ship, Anne Queen's Revenge, sank to it's watery grave. It chilled me to think that some people sail over it's resting place without ever knowing. I also enjoyed quietly watching my favorite spanish ancestors, the horses of Shackleford banks, or "shack ponies" as we called them. When my family would get home, we would wash up and grill out in the backyard. The smell of hot dogs and hamburgers filled the neighborhood, and kids from all over would come and play. I can still see my dad flipping the burgers with his slightly pink skin and cold beer in his hand. This memory is why I love summer, and will continue to.
27-Jul-2012 02:32:48