For many summers, when I was a kid, my parents would pack up our family of four and travel to Myrtle Beach, SC. This was back in the late 60’s and early 70’s before there were huge hotels and condos on the beach. And only a few golf courses.
My maternal grandparents, Monroe and Mildred Evans, would rent a cottage on the beach, separated from the ocean by a dozen or so yards of sand and dunes full of sea oats.
We would stay the week and fall in to the beach routine. Breakfast, beach, lunch, rest, beach, dinner, sleep. That’s it. There wasn’t much else to do in there.
Falling asleep was the best. I would be so tired from a day of running in and out of the surf, finding fiddler crabs and building drip sand castles that I would just drop in to bed. And as sleep came over me, I would have the sensation of still being moved around by the waves. Like the rhythm of being rocked in a hammock.
My grandparents are so young in this photo. They would have been in their mid-50’s.
I’m around four here. I just turned 49.
The photo shows my pure joy at this time spent with them. I know I am special because I’m sitting in the safe place between the two of them. Poppa’s arm draped over Gaggy’s shoulder and Gaggy’s arm around me. Poppa looks relaxed and Gaggy looks pleased.
And of course, there are library books on the coffee table.