We arrived on Saturday. Our car is packed with several suitcases, bedding and milk jugs filled with water from our tap. My friend Chassidy is with me. My little sister has brought a friend, too .We have brought enough clothes to last us a month, but we are indecisive and a tad bit insecure so we will go through all of the clothes in a week.
We unload our car and then head to Kroger’s where we will buy a week’s worth of hamburgers, hot dogs, sandwich supplies and junk food. Then we dress in our swimsuits and head to the beach on one of the two golf carts we have. As it gets closer to dinner time, we head back to the beach house.
Back at the beach house, we fix our hair, spritzing our hair brushes with Hollister perfume and apply several coats of lip-gloss before hopping onto our golf cart. We take a few pictures and then we are ready.
We cruise down the strip at the family campground my sister and I beg to go to year after year. At first we are the lone golf cart, circling the park, occasionally breaking off down a side street for a change of scenery. We are always early. We don’t want to miss a minute. We live for this week all year long. Gradually, the sun lowers itself into the ocean and the others begin to come out. We continue to circle, passing each other, giving out appraising looks. The sun has set and we begin to wave, to call out to each other.
We cruise around the strip, sometimes pulling over to chat. But most of all, we just ride. We sing out, verses from our favorite songs. We pass a particularly attractive boy and yell “Hey, hey good looking, whatcha got cookin’?”, and then a shirtless one “No shoes, no shirt, no problem”.
The sky grows dark and our golf cart weak. We check our cell phones for the time. It’s close to eleven and we head back to the house, saying our goodbyes. Some nights we push the golf cart up hills and to its home in the tiny garage.
We slink into our room after murmuring a goodnight to my parents. Crawling into bed together, we giggle over highlights from the night. In our chats, we’d talk about boys, tanning and clothes.
As we grow older, things change. Slowly, time pulls us apart and there are no more beach trips.
Once, we promised that we would be old ladies together, racing each other down the nursing home hallway in our tricked out wheel chairs. Now, we move in different directions. We are no longer as close as we were as girls. We each have new responsibilities- me to my husband and her to her husband and their three, beautiful daughters.
But we are bound to each other by the late night conversations and rainy day rummy games of our girlhood. Though we no longer live in the same city, see each other often, or vacation together we share a bond that no one can erase or replace.
Whether you read this or not, you'll always have a place in my heart. And, if the time should ever come, an eager wheelchair racing partner.
*This post was inspired by a Mama Kat prompt.
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