The ocean calls...

The beach trip has come and gone, once again. It is a bittersweet feeling to pack up and leave for home. Our annual trip to the beach is one of my family's biggest traditions. Of course, the condos change and the weather varies and there's always a new cast of characters along for the adventure, but there is also something very familiar and comforting about this family tradition and each year I feel the ocean calling me back to its shores.

When we drive down the main drag past all of the hotels and boardwalk shops, we point out hotels where we've stayed and restaurants that we like. The stories are always the same and at this point, Steve could tell you where I stayed when I was six and I could tell you where he stayed during senior week (all four years that he experienced senior week...and no, he wasn't a senior four times - only twice. Just kidding! But the guy did love senior week).

We always visit the little house on 25th street that is the place of many epic vacation tales, including the time my hair was permed so tightly that we had to leave the beach every day at 3 p.m. and start conditioning it so that I'd be ready to go out to dinner at 5:30 p.m. Or the time that I got strep throat and stayed in bed most of the week. Or the time that our car broke down and my dad had to carry me many, many blocks because I was wearing my "stupid shoes" (but oh...I looked so cute in those tiny, red Dr. Scholl's clogs).

These days we eat seafood at the Captain's Galley, dance to the Jim Long Band, shop at the Kite Loft and Edwards on the Boardwalk, and search for wild ponies on a nearby island. We eat donuts and steamed shrimp (not in the same meal, of course) and we always order steamed crabs and enjoy a long evening of crab crackin' in our condo. We shop and read good books and play in the sand and ride the ocean waves. Steve and I rent jet skis and fly around the bay for an hour of wet, salty fun (which had to be canceled this year due to bad weather...bummer). But, we did hit the motherload of all seashells, which was so fun to collect with the kids.

One of my very favorite parts of the trip is riding bikes on the boardwalk. I love that my dad and his brother act like little kids when they get on their bikes. I love that my niece Mariah once fell off the side of the concrete area of the boardwalk on her bike, right into the sand. I love riding my bike to the end of the pier and feeling the wind blow through my hair while I stare out at the ocean. I love that this year, my mom found a little yellow trailer to pull the kids behind us on the bike (it was sitting along the side of her road, for free...how great is that?). I love smelling the fries and the popcorn and the funnel cakes all mixed with the salty air along the boardwalk. I love making it to the end of the boardwalk and checking out the giant shark in the glass case. Every year we read the story about that shark and every year it feels new again.

The ocean is such a magical place. It makes me feel young and happy. It reminds me of my childhood and my parents and our many family vacations.

As much as I love the sun and waves, the salty air and ocean breezes, I love the traditions and the memories that we create here the most. I love the family and friends who share those memories. I love that our little girls will become part of these traditions, hopefully enjoying them with us for years to come.