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On my way to my most favorite place on earth. One wondrous week each year we venture to our treasured vacation spot to rejuvenate and do nothing. My children look forward to it all year and while away the summer days with anticipation of setting out where the GPS loses the road en route to this sliver of domestic paradise. My neurotic packing and double checking complete and the stress of everyday left behind – I love the trek south. With seven days stretched out ahead of us our hearts are light; not a care in the world where time loses meaning. The number of crepe myrtles increases exponentially, Spanish moss drips from trees along the one lane road, and the car is full of laughter I tell myself never to forget. We get closer and my husband rolls down the windows – the air whipping our hair and drenching our skin with the sandy salty air immediately; my girl claims to smell the ocean. I’ve got four books to read this week tucked into the bag at my feet with my knees pulled up – toes drying- dreaming of the bottomless iced tea I will order tomorrow noon and the fact that we won’t sit in car seats again til we journey home. The music is blaring Tony Bennett, Bob Marley, Harry Belafonte, B52s, and Dean Martin – my son shouting “Mama, it’s your wedding song.’ and I’m painting my nails slick with hot pink nail polish; the one short stint all year that I’m project free so my nails have polish instead of furniture wax on them. Here’s to savoring a different kind of venture. Dean’s singing…

“Sweet, sweet memories you gave-a me
You can’t beat the memories you gave-a me

Take one fresh and tender kiss
Add one stolen night of bliss
One girl, one boy
Some grief, some joy

Memories are made of this

Don’t forget a small moonbeam
Fold in lightly with a dream
Your lips and mine
Two sips of wine

Memories are made of this

Then add the wedding bells
One house where lovers dwell
[Two] little kids for the flavor

Stir carefully through the days
See how the flavor stays
These are the dreams you’ll savor

With his blessings from above
Serve it generously with love
One man, one wife
One love through life

Memories are made of this
Memories are made of this”

and we round the bend to the ferry.


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