Arriving at the chosen place was, without a doubt, always momentous. It involved a degree of mystery along the way. Would it be around this or that bend? Would it be large or small? Their room: would it have a balcony; would it face the water? Would it be a room or a cabin? Would it be on the beach? Would it be a hut on stilts in the water? Did it really matter?

This time it was a modern looking building comprised of six or seven apartments. There was a small restaurant downstairs. It was right on the beach, separated from the sand by a bicycle path.

As the apartment was a split level, he and his sister stayed upstairs while the parents occupied the room(s) below.

The best thing was that he could leave all of his toys on the beach. The only constraint was the high tide, but he handled that by placing the toys above the dried-out sea algae. In the morning, all was ready to go, one beautiful day followed another. The pension hotel had implements of its own; one of them being a newly acquired bicycle. That gave him additional freedom to roam by the five-six houses on either side of where they were staying.

Mid-day lunches were taken in their swimming suits on a terrace next to the sea. It was covered by branches and leaves. While it provided adequate shade there were sun rays still coming through to remind him where he was and how much he liked it.

There is nothing like those lazy summer days spent on and by the beach. Even if the weather is not ideal, he felt he could listen to the waves and imagine where they came from and what happened to them along the way. All that way, to come here to his beach and wipe out a sandcastle he made. Was that the wave’s purpose all along or is that just what happened, unexpectedly, surprising everyone?

August would envelop the entire family. They usually settled into a routine of being lazy and all were OK with it. They left the world, with all of its good and bad things, behind and were glad for it.

As the experience was nearing an end, he never gave much thought to packing to leave or the ensuing school year. Each time they’d leave he’d look back and be sad. A tear would invariably roll down his cheek, but he always made sure his family didn’t see it. He would then start imagining what the next summer would bring.

All those people are long gone from his life. As they fade in his memory, he misses them less. Their faces, like his own, are harder to make out.

As he reminisced, it was only November (still), and it would get even colder in the ensuing months. The days would get shorter. His bones hurt. The cough was unrelenting.

All of that didn’t matter. He anticipated his next summer vacation. It was going to happen, he resolved, even if only in his mind. And it would be just as exciting.

by Mike Djordjevich

Address :

321 High School Road #303
Bainbridge Island
WA 98110

Telephone : +1 661 645 5572

Email : mike@mdj-cpa.com

Website : http://www.mdj-cpa.com