A Week in the Summer
My family’s tradition of coming together for a week in the summer started when my son was 3 and my daughter was 6 months old. The gathering includes my husband and 2 children, my mother, my brother Michael and his family, and my brother John. That was 16 years ago and the tradition continues today.
I refer to the early years as the “beach house years.” My mom rented a house for us on Cape Cod and my favorite parts included the wrap around porch on which I would start and end every day, the mid day naps that we all participated in, and the sound of the waves. I loved watching the kids climb on the rocks, ride their bikes around the porch, and listen to Gram and Uncle John read bedtime stories at night.
After a few years we switched to the “mountain house years.” At that point, my Uncle Tommy and Aunt Nancy from California joined in on the tradition and thus began the nostalgic years that include fond memories of bubbles on the lawn, days at Storyland and Santa’s Village, hiking mountains, and swimming in rivers.
Next came the “staycation years,” coinciding with my mother’s retirement. At that time my mother was in the midst of building a small house on our property and so Instead of coming together at a rental house, we came together at my house. Each day, someone got to chose a special activity. It was quite fun really and I recall a whale watch, a duck tour, a day trip to Martha’s Vineyard, and even an overnight camping trip at our local state park. And always there was miniature golf, bowling, morning trips to Dunkin Donuts with Gram, and her French toast complete with Hershey Kisses.
At some point along the way, things got pretty crowded and my aunt and uncle decided to rent their own beach house right in our town. So, in a way, we have come full circle back to the “beach house years”. The rest of us continue to sleep at my house and my mom’s but we spend the days and evenings at the beach house: enjoying the beach, bike rides for ice cream, Monopoly games, cooking, dinners on the deck, celebrating important birthdays, sunset walks, then back for ice cream and Gram’s hot fudge sauce.
I am deeply grateful that, despite the huge effort it takes – time off work, packing, getting care for the pets, the long drive, the flight – my family makes it a priority to come together for a week in the summer every year. My Aunt Fran from Florida has even begun to join in on the tradition as of late.
We have had the good fortune to enjoy a lot of wonderful experiences together. What really matters to me though, and what I hope the children will remember most (my own 2 plus my nephew, Thomas, who I like to think of as my third child), are the unique gifts that each family member contributes to the whole: Gram’s deep love for all of us, Uncle Michael’s patience and kindness, Aunt Lynne’s passion for justice, Uncle John’s boundless energy and caring nature, Uncle Tommy’s loving devotion to our family, Aunt Nancy’s guiding heart, Aunt Fran’s contagious laughter, and their Dad’s ability to make everything more fun.
What I will remember most about those days is the joy of watching each child’s own unique gifts emerge as they grow into adulthood. It is my hope that they will remember me for valuing the gifts in each one of us.
