I have not visited Cape Cod since I was about six or seven. And I don’t really remember it. I have some foggy idea of a wooden shack on a beach and a family that was living there during the summer. Either I was abducted for a spell and no one told me later, or I was visiting some rather distant friends of the family and they’re even more distant now, because I can’t for the life of me remember whose house it was. And I don’t think we stayed long. There was sun, there was sand, there was salt. (Water.) Unremarkable. Oh, and the dune grasses. I remember those, too.
This time I am heading off as an adult and hopefully I will have a few more memories to hang onto afterwards. I’m bringing a husband and children. My own. That’s pretty different too. Not the kind of thing I would have had a clue about when I was seven. Even as an adult it’s a pretty weird thought. Going on vacation with one’s family. I’ll try not to dwell on it.
We’ll be camping. This is becoming something of an annual event for us. Often it’s been with older relatives, but this year we’re going without the magnetic draw of others. We did all the research and planning to find this place ourselves. Well, to be honest, it came highly recommended from a friend who grew up in eastern Massachusetts. She said she hadn’t visited this particular state park on the cape in a long time, but she loved it back in the day, pre-kids. Sounded good to us. Multiple clear ponds, lots of trees, ocean nearby.
At the moment, however, my kids are in Boston with my folks, staying up until midnight watching fireworks. They’re pretty excited. My husband and I are, too. We get to pack all by ourselves. This is a new thing for us. We went to Target and wandered around in a daze, wondering how many Coleman products we could load into our cart… and then actually buy at the checkout.
Off we go.