Summer Vacation When I was a kid, we lived in Phoenix, Arizona and every summer, we’d pile into the family station wagon and drive to my grandparents house at the beach. It was a big adventure; we’d get up at 3 am to beat the desert heat (you can NEVER beat it in reality), the suitcases would be in a luggage rack on the roof and the back seat would be down with a mattress on top. 5 kids, mom and dad filled the car up pretty completely. The state line is the Colorado River and Blythe, California was right across the border. At that time, Interstate 10 didn’t exist, so we went right thru town. We always stopped at the first café we came to for breakfast. As we got out of the car, the first that thing I would be aware of was the smell. It’s a scent of earth, water and heat and even at that young age, it was a powerful sense. It was then I knew we were in California and really on our way to the beach. Once you leave Blythe, there’s a brutal 90 mile stretch thru the desert to Indio, an hour and a half of nothing but cactus, heat and boredom. Right in the middle of that drive was a huge billboard advertising a clothing store called Waltah Clarks, a wonderful clothing store on Balboa Island (our destination), in southern California. I loved looking for that sign, yet another clue we were getting closer. After you get thru the desert, it’s still several hours to Balboa. The closer we got, the more excited we became. The last big hurdle was a hill on Hwy 101 (the coastal route). I still couldn’t see the water, but I knew it was there. We’d crest the hill and there it was----the sun on the water, sailboats, people on the beach, swimming, the sound of laughter and splashes. It was all we could do to stay in the car. Once I was older, my mom would let us out and we would race to the beach and walk/run/skip/dance to the house. By the time we got there, Mom would be sitting on the porch with my grandmother, a couple of her sisters, a big glass of iced tea in her hand. The car had been unpacked somehow and vacation had begun!! We would change into our bathing suits and hit the water. Those were the sweet days of summer, two weeks of bliss. I had a freedom there I didn’t have any other time. We’d be up early, going fishing, come home for breakfast and back to the beach. The house was wall to wall kids, my cousins, sometimes 10 or 12 of us. The big kids took care of the little ones during the day. After dinner, the older girls (ME!!) would take off for town and ice cream and watch the boys go by!! We usually found a group of them doing the same thing and would sit on the seawall, talk, flirt, be silly. Sometimes, we’d meet a really CUTE guy, and fall in love. It was always a quick romance, two weeks doesn’t allow for much more. Letters might be exchanged, and onc--, one wonderful time-- he was there the next summer too!! Young love---how sweet it is! And then, it was time to go home. I would always cry--- leaving was so hard. Pack the car up, head back home, to school and the old routine. I’d still look back at that sign for Waltah Clarks, though it didn’t have the same thrill it did on the way TO the beach. My head was full of memories, my bag full of shells and sand other treasures I found while I was there. Summer vacation---takes forever to get there, goes by too fast and leaves the sweetest dreams. 9/15/10