My mom and sister are busy today, packing up for their annual month on Cape Cod.
Under normal circumstances I’d be doing the same. This year I’m grounded, not allowed to stray more than an hour’s drive from my OB, which limits my summer adventures to Bloomington or Danville.
And central Illinois is not my idea of a summer paradise.
It isn’t as bad as last summer, when I felt trapped and friendless. Last summer I needed the respite by the sea to maintain my sanity.
This year is better, our life more settled. Mybana is The Poo’s home, she is rooted here in a way that is bemusing and worrisome. For soon, we will tear up those tender roots and transplant her to who knows where.
That matters not this summer, however. This summer the baby in my belly dictates that we stay put.
Friday I made a last minute trip to the grocery store before a small holiday BBQ, and caught the scent of suntan lotion on the air. I closed my eyes and saw myself, holding The Poo’s small hand as we made our way over the dune to the shores of Indian Neck Beach.
I felt the spray of the shower after the beach, felt the salt and sand sloughing off my skin under the steady water. I heard the sound of the crowd at Moby Dick’s and tasted the corn on the cob, eaten out of a red plastic basket.
I watched my niece and nephew play in the huge bedroom the kids claim as their own and heard the sound of the bird waking me up to the soothing green view outside my white bedroom window.
Last year was a little rough, with the kids being just close enough in age to make each other crazy. By the time our month was up I was ready to come home.
But this year, my anxieties have eased. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve let go of whatever fantasy I had in my head about what my family of origin should look like. I don’t have any expectations beyond being allowed to breathe in the ocean breeze.
I’m sad today, lonely for that special place that makes me feel whole once a year. A place where I feel my father around me, remember him laughing and eating $30 coffee cakes and telling my husband he looks like a homeless man in his beach hat.
Mr. C is at work, studying for his test, and the day after the exam ends he goes to Italy. The Poo and I will remain here in Chambana, doing our daily things – summer camp, writing gigs and the town pool.
But my heart will be tucked away in Wellfleet, while my body aches for the sea.
{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
Oh honey. I’m sorry you can’t go. But it’ll all be worth it once the babe comes. And town pools? Awesome.
Don’t forget Decatur. There’s nothing like the smell of processing soybeans to make you wax nostalgic (to me it smells like hot dog food).
Oh, and Tuscola or Amish country (Arcola and Arthur). Whee.
I’m up for a day trip anytime. Just give me a ring when you feel the need to escape the confines of C-U.
Not only am I sorry that YOU can’t go, after that beautiful description, I’m sorry I can’t go!!
Oh I don’t know what to say – poor you. You sound down …. only a month to go now and your little Shaggy will be here to occupy you though… something to look forward to…
as much as one can look forward to not enough sleep and dirty nappies…
am I helping?!
What wonderful memories- you are making my heart ache.
I would send you some fried clams from Moby’s, but somehow I don’t think it would be the same.
That certainly does stink, doesn’t it? But just think, next year will be completely different…in so many ways. I know that it’s little consolation, but you’ll be kickin’ it on the beach this time next year.
And if it helps, I’m stuck here in the Midwest too! We can be miserable together.
I remember when I was almost done with baby #3 our big family reunion was scheduled. I hesitated to go since I was due in 4weeks but my family agreed to pay for the hospital bill if I went into labor…I didn’t of course and had a great time…although 8hrs in the car that pregnant sucks.
Danville, that can be fun…
I grew up in Mass. and vacationed on the Cape every summer until I was in high school. I understand why you miss it so. It’s a very special place.
If it makes you feel any better, I’m stuck in NJ for the summer (for entirely different reasons) and won’t even get to snuggle a newborn when it’s all over. Next year, you’ll be back to the old routine – hang in there.
Oh, the wistful feeling of this post…I wish I could bring you an ocean. The best I could suggest, given your location, is Lake Michigan.
Good luck to you and baby!