A Shore Thing

I just enjoyed my first summer 2011 weekend at the Shore and I have to tell you that each year it feels more like coming home. Whether in Avalon, Ocean City,  or my childhood "home" of Long Beach Island, I'm struck by the overwhelming sense that there's nowhere else I'd rather be. For years I joined my mom and sister in chiding my dad for never wanting to travel further than Barnegat Bay, but as the years have passed, I must confess that the Jersey Shore has become my happiest place on earth.

I can't claim that New Jersey beaches are more beautiful than others. I won't try to convince you the water is clearer or more blue. The sunsets there are no more special than yours. It's not the food or amusements or entertainment. It's just that the Shore is home, and I suppose as I get older, home becomes more important to me.

From this past weekend I want to forever etch in my memory:

• The size of Abby's smile when catching the perfect wave on her boogie board
• Her sand drip castles
• Jumping the waves with Ian and friends
• Digging for sand crabs
• The perfect ocean breeze 

I never want to forget the satisfying exhaustion and feeling in your chest after a day spent diving under, jumping over, and crashing through the waves. I never want to be too old to float on my back, toes up in the air, as the swells carry me. I never want to sit out with the other grown-ups who claim the water is just too cold. No, I want to be the 80-year-old grinning after a dip. I want to be the 60+-year-old with a smile as big as Abby's when he catches the perfect wave.

I know at some point Ian and his friends will decide they're too mature to dig holes in the sand and instead they will start "digging" girls. I know Abby will soon be too embarrassed to lay her beach towel next to mom and dad's. I know that in the blink of an eye both of my children will be heading off to summer jobs, and then college, leaving Rob and I alone. Then we will smile at the grandparent holding the hand of their grandchild as she toddles for the first time to the water's edge, knowing that day too is not far off.

You know sentimentality is not my thing. You know I'm usually counting down the days till the kids move out. But there's something about this place that makes me want to stop time. To freeze everything as it is today. The kids. The friends. The smiles and laughter and love. The memories that seem so much sweeter because they were made at the Shore.