Ahhhh, the beach! There's nothing like it, of course. I can be in the foulest mood, but let me loose on a serene beach for an hour and it's guaranteed I'll return in much better form.
I've been coming to Cape Cod since I was a baby--my uncle bought a place in North Falmouth's Old Silver Beach in 1969, the year I was born. My family spent a week or two there every summer, and many of my fondest memories are from those visits.
I remember the drive down seeming interminable, even though it was only an hour-and-a-half (mere child's play to my kids, who are used to regular five-hour drives to see their grandparents.) "Are we there yet?" is such a cliche, but I distinctly recall driving my parents insane with that query the whole way. Or maybe the parental insanity was due to there being no car seats to prevent me and my brothers from pummeling each other the entire 75 miles, and no in-car DVD player to put a stop to the endless litany of complaints.
Three years ago, my parents bought a to-die-for Cape house, right across the street from the beach. So now it falls on me--the parent with New England roots--to instill in my kids a love of Cape Cod. Not that it's difficult--the Cape pretty much sells itself--but five-hour drives suck no matter how many snacks, DVDs, and Sesame Street CDs I pack. Seven-mile backups leading to the Bourne Bridge don't help, either.
But then we arrive...the cool sea breezes beckon, the warm sand slips between our toes, the waves gently lap at the shore, the sun turns the water into an ocean of glittering jewels...and the memory of the long drive, bridge traffic, moaning children, and crappy fast-food fades away.
Because now we are in Paradise. "Hello, Paradise, I've missed you."
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