Reminiscing about trips to the Outer Banks with our three sons.
We packed the car the night before,
early bed for all, we rose at four.
Three sleepy boys helped to their seats,
hubby up at first alarm, now that was a feat!
Early morning on the highways
the night slipped into day.
We always managed to be on time
for the sunrise at the First state line.
It took nine hours to get to Corolla.
As we crossed the sound bridge, the boys would all holler.
We made excellent time, til we reached the last link.
But HWY 12 on the island drove us all to the brink.
That last 20 miles wore all patience thin,
but finally our cottage! We’re here! Let’s go in!
With a sigh of relief and a breath of salt air,
time for the beach with a good book and a chair.
One week on the island, with the surf and the sun
every year each cottage was voted “Best” bar none.
Those weeks slipped by quickly. Too soon, time to repack.
Everyone was so grumpy. No one wanted to go back.
Our boys are adults now, but every now and then
the subject of vacations start, “Do you remember when…”
Someday we’ll all go back there, not sure of really when.
But we’ll need a bigger cottage; we’ll have grandkids with us then.