Personal Yummy #3
The night before. Excitement at what lies ahead. Packing more than you need—just in case. Sleep interrupted by eagerness…
Sound familiar?
In the summer of 1996, I took a trip from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, with my boyfriend of one year (friend of two-and-a-half). I got up at six a.m., checked the oil and water in my car, threw my luggage in the trunk, and was ready to escape to one of my favorite places. So I picked up my guy, and off we went on our adventure.
Fortunately, unlike a lot of preparations and car rides to go on vacation, which are visited periodically—and sometimes, incessantly—by quarrels over getting ready to go, and, in fact, which direction to go, I am glad to say that ours were free from any of this. And, as my memory serves me, so was the entirety of our trip.
Yes, what stands out in my mind is nothing but fondness and contentment.
We left on a Tuesday and came back on a Friday. Short—you might think—but certainly long enough to enliven and rejuvenate the body and, most importantly, the spirit.
Everything about the trip had significance.
First of all: the motel. I had fears that it might turn out to be—well, in blunt terms—a dump. What—at forty-five dollars a night, in the peak of the season—could one expect? My fears, however, were nonetheless allayed. In fact, the place actually turned out to possess some character. It was painted yellow (my favorite color, believe it or not; the same as my car at the time) and had blue window panes and little black lanterns by each door. On top of that, the name of the establishment was quite interesting: The Fountain Motel. This would usually not be anything important to comment upon, but when the water in the fountain, which was located in the middle of the parking lot of the motel, has trouble rising into the air more than a foot, and reminds me—if I may give it human qualities—of a person trying to wake up very early in the morning, and never quite succeeding, then it is something to remark upon. At the very least, it gave both of us something to chuckle about. And you know what? The motel itself, although modest, was rather comfortable and became like home by the end of our stay.
Moreover, the beach. Nothing can quite compare to the warmth of the sand and the sun, and to the freshness, vitality, and ceaseless moving of the waves. The entire atmosphere of the place is wonderful—everybody mellow and laid-back, with no goal in mind except to enjoy the beauty surrounding them.
Furthermore, everything contributing to the area itself is special: the quaint and cozy beach houses that line the side streets, of all shapes, sizes, and designs, with their owners and their friends sitting on the front porch in the evening and playing cards, or simply chatting and enjoying glasses of red wine; the eclectic shops with both casual and fancy dresses, colorful dangling earrings, candles and soaps of various delicious fragrances, and all sorts of other delights; the busy and active boardwalk; and the intoxicating smell of the night air.
Thus, not only the beach itself, but all the myriad aspects associated with it, had an effect on me.
And—even though the boyfriend of this story is no longer in my life—the entire vacation was all the more precious because I had someone special to share it with. Our lunches at the diner across the street of our motel; the hours spent on cracking and eating hard-shell crabs; the moonlit walks on the pier; the dancing to an oldies band on an outdoor deck: cha-cha-cha-ing to “Blue Moon”; the enjoyment of the water; the waves lapping upon our legs; the refreshing, warm showers after a day luxuriating and reading Lady Chatterley’s Lover on the beach; and the gentle, yet passionate lovemaking under the covers at night… All the moments in life hold so much value, and mean so much more, whenever they are shared with someone you care about deeply.
In simple terms, our trip was magical. Being at a favorite place, and with your favorite person, the one you love:
What could be more perfect than that…
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