I'm Getting that Burning Itch

I’M FEELIN’ THAT BURNING ITCH FOR SAND IN MY PANTS

I had forgotten how much I love the North Carolina Beaches.  Growing up on the East coast meant spending summer vacations at the ocean.  That’s what East Coast people do.  My mom, dad, brother and I spent a week each year at the beach. We seemed to worked our way further down the coast with each new summer – Ocean City, Maryland; Rehoboth Beach, Delaware; Wildwood, NJ; Virginia Beach, Virginia, then Nags head, NC. 

Steve and I spent our honeymoon and subsequent vacations on the Outer Banks.  One of my favorite places is Ocracoke Island, where Blackbeard was captured and beheaded.  The island has such a rich and deep history.  It is also so peaceful,

Even after moving to Colorado, we traveled back with our kids to Emerald Isle, to Sound of the Sea, Condo 504, owned by my parents. It was our yearly road trip in the Subaru station wagon.  We enjoyed the sun, the ocean, the pool, and the fresh seafood.  There were plenty of attractions for the kids, like putt putt golf, go-carts, fishing, and jet skis.  It was also an opportunity to be with family so far away.

Our yearly beach trips were big events.  There were always lots of people there, including my brother and his wife and kids; my parents; Steve’s parents and sister; my college roommate and her husband and kids; and assorted cousins and friends.  Times were laid back.  All were on their own.  Nothing was planned or scheduled.

Many memories are tied to those beaches.  Sand castles, sunburns, dolphins, and crabs.  Our kids flew kites and played beach volleyball, Frisbee or Nerf football.  We were at the beach when Iraq invaded Kuwait.  We watched the battleships from Cherry Point cruise across the horizon, heading to the Middle East.  There was where we heard about the TWA Flight 800 exploding over the Atlantic after taking off for France.  It carried 17 students from Montoursville, Pennsylvania who were making a cultural trip with their French teacher.  The news of JFK, Jr.’s death in another airplane clash came during a different summer beach vacation. 

After Christmas in Dec. 1988, we spent 5 days at the condo.  We were heading to Disney World with our kids and our parents.  I can still see my dad and my boys walking on the beach on those brisk, but sunny, December afternoons.  My dad died suddenly less than a month later.  We didn’t go back for a few years after that.  It wasn’t quite the same.

About 10 years ago, we discovered Hawaii and headed west for our summer beach fix. North Carolina vacations were in the past.  Our kids were married and their vacations took then in different directions.  Occasionally, we would gather at Estes Park, but they have their own lives and their own families, now.

Last winter, my daughter in law and my mother started kicking around the idea of a North Carolina beach vacation.  Mom was telling us about how she, my brother’s family and their friends had been to Emerald Isle the summer before, renting a beach house at Spinnaker’s Reach.  According to my mother, it was a beautiful community.  Naturally, we went online and saw all that it had to offer.  Within a week, after Skyping with my sister-in-law, and checking all calendars, we had booked two houses – one for my family and one for my brother’s family – at Spinnaker’s Reach.  The entire family was onboard.  My mother was ecstatic, as she never thought we would be able to arrange so many schedules for a family reunion.

What a wonderful time we had. The weather was perfect, the houses were amazing, and everyone showed up.  We had our own pool and a golf cart to cruise to the beach.  All of the houses were pastel in color.  Ours was lime green, had 7 bedrooms, 6 bathrooms, a media room and elevator.  It also had a secret room at the top of the house that had the most amazing view.  We did all the “beach” things that we used to do. Some things never change - the smell, feel and taste of salt water,  the sound of the surf, burning feet on the hot afternoon sand as we run for the wooden walkway, the uncomfortable feeling of sand in the bathing suit after sitting in a beach chair at surf’s edge as the tide comes in; Yanna’s Restaurant in Swansboro.

Memories past, memories fresh and new.  Now we watch as our sons and nephews enjoy their children, nieces and nephews, playing in the sand, flying kites, playing ball.  We laugh as Jake and Taylor came up from the beach with their bathing suits around their ankles – sand in the pants.  We help them run into and away from the waves and gather seashells.  A new generation is now also gathering North Carolina memories.

Back in Colorado, I am watching this summer end, with winter ready to take the stage.  Memories of the beach have been creeping into my head and I am already yearning for a return to the Spinnaker’s Reach.  I am sure there are plenty more memories out there on those North Carolina beaches to be plucked from the sand like seashells and to be carried back home to be enjoyed for years to come.