From the year I was born until I was seventeen, my family, grandparents, and cousins would pack the car and head to Sandbridge, Virginia for our annual beach vacation. Just 15 miles from the bustling Virginia beach boardwalk, our beach was a hidden sanctuary where we could truly unwind and forget about the expectations waiting for us back home. When the white caps rolled in and the tide stretched out over the shore, the water gently unburdened us of our struggles and concerns. The hot sun radiated a warmth over our cold skin. And, embracing those tranquil rays was a vast, borderless sky of forgiveness and clarity.
The beach was not merely a cure for the doubts and despair that restricted our hearts, but also an actual getaway from the rules that dictate our daily lives. As the architect of these magical vacations, my dad prescribed only one rule, and that is that “there were no rules in the beach house.” As a kid, he had effectively turned my wildest dreams into reality. I could sleep in until noon, eat ice cream for breakfast, and play lacrosse in the house. It was like Christmas but better because this holiday lasted for an entire week in the middle of July, and the frigid snow was replaced by refreshing waves and soft, white sand.
Nothing compares to the sheer joy and excitement that these beach vacations brought to my life. I anticipated this week every year, because I knew that whenever my toes finally met with the sand, that a playful spirit would ignite in my heart and I could break free from everything inside my mind. With the happy memories lingering from past vacations and an unconstrained anticipation for the next one, my childhood was painted in vivid colors of deep ocean blue, luminous sun orange, and soft sunset pink. These beach vacations unveiled how beautiful life and love could be, and I always thought that there was nothing that could take them away.
Yet, as I got older, I began to realize that these marvelous vacations had deceived me. At too young of an age, I was exposed to the horrors of suppressed hatred, bitterness, and resentment. Crouching from behind my bedroom door, I listened to vicious arguments between my parents and wondered if this was how my friends’ parents talked too. And when I realized that it wasn’t, I also realized that the promises of life, love, and family established at the beach were fraud. Sandbridge, Virginia was a temporary refuge from the intense rivalry blazing between my parents. And, as the years passed, the excitement attached to packing the car, walking along the coast, and building sand castles slowly dwindled; the once vibrant colors of my world faded into light pastels and soft-hues.
But you can’t slam doors, point fingers, and stab each other in the back forever. Eventually, someone gets tired. About a year ago, my mom’s fatigue got the best of her; one battle set her over the edge, and she decided to put an end to the war. She told my dad they were getting a divorce.
Now, there is an awkward week in the middle of July where the sounds of contagious laughter and waves crashing down on the sand are replaced with a stillness – a serene peace that wasn’t there before, and it’s uncomfortable. There’s a forbidden silence surrounding the sense of betrayal and loss that pains our hearts, so instead we talk about lawyers and finances. We spend our time splitting everything into two, except family beach vacations because now there are zero. And, within this painful quiet, I could be sad that I didn’t live the nuclear family dream. Or, I could look in the mirror, and resent the DNA that I share with my dad. Or, I could carry bitterness, grief, and anger with me, but I have already done all of those things.
So instead, I look at my life through an appreciative lens, a lens that recalls memories of digging holes with my uncle in the sand and sharing laughter with my cousins. Even though these memories are foggy, the feelings of happiness and warmth that they bring are crystal clear. That is why I believe that gratitude brings us happiness even at the darkest times. My parents’ fights might have taken the beach away from me, but I choose to look back on family vacations with thankfulness for the love and fulfillment my family has shared with me there. The hopefulness in each memory is why I am responsible for rekindling the same emotions that Sandbridge, Virginia once gave to me. So, I have replaced resentment with gratitude, and anger with patience. My family has taught me that love is hard work, but that doesn’t scare me. I want to work hard, so that when I smell the saltwater ocean breeze, it soothes and comforts me again.