Every summer from when I was three until thirteen years old, my family spent a week of the summer in Moody Beach Maine. We went with my father’s college roommate, his wife and their two daughters to stay in a house named, The Spouting Whale located right on the ocean. To me this trip always seemed like paradise, having all day everyday to play, with my brother and friends. What could be better? Stepping out of the minivan after the seemingly endless car ride to the salty smell of ocean air, was one of the greatest feelings I have ever known.
Everyday began bright and early around 6am. When my brother, Tyler would wake me up, shouting, “It’s morning, it’s morning!” We would quickly put on our bathing suits and run outside to the beach, dragging our buckets and shovels with us. Us kids would play on the sandy beach creating magical looking sandcastles for hours on end until an adult came outside and we were permitted to enter the frigid ocean water. Some years even putting one toe in the water would cause pain, due to the chill. Other years the water was tolerable and we could boogie board, body surf and tube until the point of exhaustion. At night we would have bonfires on the beach or drive into town to go out to dinner or for ice cream. Everyday was a new adventure and I was always terribly sad when it was time to return home.
Last year, my family returned to the same house we stayed in all those years ago. The crew was different instead of my father’s friends I went with my parents, brother, his girlfriend and a friend of mine. It was remarkable to see how much my life had changed since I had last been there, but the house and beach looked exactly the same; from the close line hanging out front to the Space Jam poster on my bedroom wall.
When we got there I soon ran down to the beach and took a walk with my friend. The sand felt soft and warm between my toes as the seagulls sang above me. The ocean breeze and fantastic ocean smell reminded me of summer’s past. I have had countless memories on that beach and in that house. Although I was older now and days were spent sleeping in, sunbathing, taking long walks and drinking (no drinking for me of course). Everyone still played in the ocean flipping over the waves and even making a sand castle or two. It was the perfect vacation, and at the end of the week I was again sad to leave. I don’t know if we will return to the Spouting Whale next summer or ever again for that matter, but I do know that no matter how much my life changes that house will always be there, remaining exactly the same as it was all those summers ago when I was growing up.
Kiersten Writes 
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