By Cottage Cheese
Come on. Fess up! We all can remember the excitement of a trip to the beach when we were younger. It begins with loading the car, packing the foods and drinks, selecting the fun beach wear we love to sport, getting the tropical tunes lined up and donning the aviator shades.
Just hearing Aretha Franklin croon through the car speakers, “Come on. So drop the top back, baby, and cruise on into This Better Than Ever Street,” gets me going. Except now, I’m much too cautious to burn the tires down as I pull out of the driveway (meaning I’m way too cheap to waste money on a traffic ticket), but you get the idea.
“Free Your Mind and the rest will follow.”
I used to pester my parents to no end on the way to the beach. “Are we there, yet? What’s taking so long? We’re missing the best part of the day. Can’t we stay longer?” I still think that way. The only difference now is my dogs can’t talk back or threaten to pull the car over and put me out on the side of the road for whining too much.
There’ve been times I’ve run to the beach all wracked with worry or remorse and regret for something I did or did not do well, hoping the waves will wash away my angst.
Other times I’ve stood in the surf and dropped tears into the sea for loves I’ve lost and upon every return hoped the tides would bring them back (and a few that I hope never catch a wave back to the beach!).
But, most of the time I’m just not that deep. I’m hungry for the salty sea air, fresh seafood, cold libations and sand underneath my feet.
When I know there will be long stretches in between my visits I wander through the candyland of cottages online the same way I used to wear out the Sears catalog at Christmas. In fact, I’ve got my eye on the tropical and pet friendly Canty\’s Cottage right now!
I love this type of Cottage Cheese when I can just flip off a few curds and wind surf my arm out the driver’s window on my whey down to my Georgia coast.
I’m the only hell my momma ever raised. I’m headed to Tybee. Y’all comin’?