Tuesday, August 11, 2009

a beach page

from last summer!

Lately I've been wondering what makes memories stick. Why is it some moments stick fiercely and others are quickly forgotten? There is a section of my neighborhood that reminds me of the Superbowl. On Superbowl Sunday, three years ago, I walked through that section of my neighborhood on my way to get Superbowl snacks. And now I am always reminded of the Superbowl every time I walk through it. What about running that errand sealed the Superbowl::98th Street connection? I just don't get it.

Sometimes I like to let some time pass before scrapbooking some photos. I like seeing which memories sift through with time. When I look back at this particular day at the beach I remember a couple of things. I remember Kirsten and I laughing at ourselves at what a production it was to get kids and stuff to the shore. I remember Andrew burying just about anything he could in the sand. But what I remember most was stepping out of the car, breathing in the ocean air and being assaulted with a feeling of calm.

Here's what I wrote:
It's a lot of work to get to the beach. Packing and unpacking and hauling and setting up all of the gear is a big undertaking. But the relief that comes when stepping out into nature makes it worthwhile.

1 comment:

Miss Vicki said...

During your teen years when you were forced to go w/ your parents and grandparents to O.C. I thought you would never willingly go to the beach when you could make your own decisions! You would sit under the umbrella for a week not exactly enjoying yourself.