We're back from our vacation.
Keith and Em are thrilled to return to familiar beds, cable tv. . .
. . .they didn't like satellite tv, something about nothing being on and getting news from Vancouver and Edmonton. . .
. . .internet access, televisions in bedrooms. . . .
Em pined for Reilley the entire time we were away.
Stephen ached for Goblet.
Although his earlobes were thrilled to have a suckle-free week.
And me?
I started crying last evening, on the beach, during my last solo beach amble.
Not wanting to leave was so strong at that moment I contemplated all the ways I could potentially stay.
None of which would have worked, but still, I thought about it.
The tide coming in, waves beating gently at the shore, the beach tempting me with its sea glass bounty.
As an aside, when my camera is returned, I'll take a picture of my sea glass haul.
NEVER have I been able to collect so much from one beach.
At one point, I mentioned to Stephen that perhaps there was a sea glass fairy who liberally sprinkled the beach during the late night hours, knowing I'd be on the prowl the next morning.
Stephen thinks it has more to do with our proximity to PEI.
But I like the sea glass fairy idea a lot more.
Back to leaving. . .
I cried at the prospect of returning to the piles of emails, phone messages, bills, the demands and neediness of others, the issues I knew awaited me when I returned.
As we pulled out of the driveway this morning, I had to fight to hold back the tears, not wanting Em to think I was crying because she was driving.
NEVER have I felt more relaxed, more responsibility-free as I did during that week.
No email.
No cell phones.
No house phones.
No driving kids hither and yon.
No grocery shopping.
No visiting.
No asking, begging for things I may or may not have and may or may not be willing to provide.
If I came to any conclusions over the course of this week's aimless wandering along the beach it was that I need to take a bit more time for myself.
D'uh!
At this moment, a two week vacation in the exact same spot is in the process of being booked.
Stephen mentioned we may be able to get back during Thanksgiving weekend, as we found a lovely, hidden spot, where, when the tide goes out you can walk for hours and not cover everything.
If I can reconnect with the ocean before winter, I'll be a happy girl.
As will Frankie.
He was the only other being, outside of me, who could have camped out on the beach night and day and been thrilled.
There wasn't a beach walking event that didn't include Frankie and Tikka.
But Tikka is almost 14 and doesn't necessarily find being on the beach, traversing the rocks, as much fun as Frankie does.
And Tikka doesn't do swimming.
Until yesterday at least.
We discovered, quite by accident, that there was access to a public beach area behind the local convenience store.
Which was across the street from the local only-open-for-two-months-of-the-year craft shop.
More about the to-die-for craft shop later.
While visiting the craft shop, on the hunt for a present for Mer, we noticed that the tide was out, the beach was public, and that we needed to take the dogs out for the kind of beach stroll Stephen had been longing for since our arrival.
Our private beach was lovely, but it wasn't very long, and for whatever reason when the tide was out, it didn't extend as far out as Stephen likes.
Again, I think it's because we can see Borden, PEI from our beach.
But the beach behind the store was an entirely different kettle of fish.
There were no land masses anywhere in it's vicinity.
The tide went out, seemingly forever.
We dashed back to the cottage, grabbed the dogs, invited the kids who turned us down without lifting their heads from their books, and off we went back to the beach-behind-the-store.
It looked something like this:
We walked with the dogs for two hours and still didn't see everything.
Didn't place our footprints on all the available sand.
Didn't walk the distance between the little "islands" that appear at low tide.
Not to say Stephen didn't try.
Which takes us back to Tikka swimming.
Anytime Stephen encounters low tide islands he wants to put his feet all over as many of them as possible.
Regardless of how far apart they are or how deep the water in between.
For whatever reasons, heat, insanity, joy, Tikka, who almost always stays with me, decided that she was going to stick like Velcro to Daddy.
Leaving Fearless Frankie to safe guard Mummy.
The next thing I know, Stephen is waist deep in water, and remember, Stephen is six feet four inches tall, so his waist deep is my armpit deep.
Tikka beside him with a panic stricken look crossing her face quickly followed by a look that said, if-I-must-swim-my-way-out-of-here-than-that-is-what-I-shall-do.
And she did.
In all the years we've had Tikka at the ocean, or any other body of water for that matter, she has resolutely refused to swim.
Leaving me to wonder at one point if she even could.
Apparently, she can.
When her feet were able to touch the ground, she bounded over to me, puppy-like joy filling her glorious face, and if she could talk, she would have said:
MUMMY!!!!!!!
MUMMY!!!!!!!
DID YOU SEE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DID YOU SEE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I SWAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And then she turned, and looked at Stephen with such contempt and distaste.
A look that said, I-won't-be-following-you-ANYWHERE-anytime-soon-buster.
For two hours we walked along as much of the ocean floor as we could, before Stephen, always the common sense adult in these matters, suggested we head home.
It was after 5.00.
He was hungry.
And probably had to pee.
Why?????? I replied.
Because Keith and Em will be worried.
No they won't! We asked them if they wanted to come, they said no, they know where we are, so why should I be slave to a non-vacation timetable?
No reply.
The wheels were turning.
Tikka is getting tired.
Damn!
He knows me too well.
Knows that my love for Tikka, my respect for her age and her limits, is always stronger than my own personal desire to spend more time at the beach.
Even Frankie was flagging.
Although he was loathe to let us see it.
Plus, if I am to be completely honest, I was wearing denim shorts that were wet to the crotch, an unfortunate event that occurred as a result of following Stephen into the water between islands.
Wet denim is uncomfortable.
Chafes, even.
But I would have tolerated it for more time on ocean floor, had it not been for the looks of exhaustion in my puppies eyes.
I knew they'd stick with me if I wanted to go further.
But I couldn't make them do that.
Stephen and the kids?
Absolutely.
But not my loyal babies.
So we left.
Came back to the cottage to hungry children.
Keith ready to BBQ chicken.
Em wanting mashed potatoes, brown sugar carrots, and then another evening of Family Game Night featuring Clue.
Tired but happy puppies.
Well fed children and husband.
Em winning Clue.
A lovely way to spend our last full vacation day.
No worries.
I have many more tales to tell.
Taking in the treasures at the local craft shop.
Our visit to Cape Jourimaine.
The importance of paying attention to mosquito indexes
Walking underneath the Confederation Bridge during low tide.
Wasp infested lighthouses.
Em's trip to Port Elgin, perhaps the least exciting place on the entire planet, where only Em could have an adventure there.
Our dinner trip to Moncton.
Board game week adventures.
Dawne seeing a snake.
Driving home in Hurricane Irene, Em manning the wheel.
And so much more!
Stay tuned!
Title Lyric: Sweet Vacation by Lionel Richie
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