We took our freak show on the road last week. A friend offered her beach cottage for my niece’s fall break and the still, quiet optimist in me decided we should try it. Aside from my sister swelling up like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man and my mom curing a dead pelican on the stove (FOR ART!), it was a decent time. I managed a brilliant red sunburn on my front side and a new constellation of freckles to alarm my dermatologist. The girls all spent their days in the ocean and their nights reading in the fort made of bunkbeds.
Once upon a time we would have gone alone, my girls and me. We would have had a great time, spent every moment in the sun, and probably acted like big sunburned vegetables for the week. Now that our family includes three more special needs cases, things are so different. But instead of brooding about the changes, I tried to spend the week appreciating the opportunity to be there. The time that the three girls spent together was precious. My mom’s pile of kooky treasures salvaged from the beach (bones, shells, feathers, rocks, condoms) was fun to watch, if not a bit smelly. And watching my sister sit with her daughter, their feet in the ocean and matching wide brimmed hats on their heads was worth every moment of stress involved with getting us there.
Once upon a time was wonderful, but I don’t live there anymore. So I’m trying hard to focus on better tolerating ever after.
Real life woman. Virtual World avatar. Likes top shelf vodka, dominant men, blues, sunsets and playing darts. Dislikes insecurity, rap, small children and clowns. I'm either behind the bar or under it.