Going to the ocean as a child was always a lot of fun.
While my father flew kites, my brother and I would play in the sand, look for sea shells and test our limits on how far we went out in the surf.
My mother would lay on a blanket, snoozing or reading a book.
We went at least once a year, if not more. My dad bought his first kite when I was just an infant.
When I was maybe 10 years old my older brother turned the movie “Jaws” on.
We happened to watch it just a few days before a trip to the ocean.
As we’re driving out onto the sand, our excitement building, my brother reminded me to watch out for sharks.
He had a gay old time out in the surf while I sat on the sand.
My mother was so frustrated by my suddenly developed fear of the water, she dragged me out kicking and screaming into the surf.
That fear faded somewhat and the most vivid memory of the incident is my mother pulling wet dollar bills out of her pocket.
As you read this, I will most likely be out in the sand, flying a kite with my dad at the Long Beach Kite Festival.
We go every year as an annual tradition. We have a standing reservation at the same campground in our favorite camping site.
It’s one of my favorite places to go.
When I moved to Whidbey Island last year I saw a lot of similarities between the two.
There’s the obvious ocean aspect, but there are small things that make this island remind me of my favorite place.
Everytime I go down to Kapaws for a Mountain Blackberry ice cream cone, it takes me back to Long Beach, Wash., where a similar ice cream shop, Scoopers, serves the very same ice cream.
As I’m enjoying a Scoopers’ cone this week, I’m curious to see if it starts tasting like a little bit of home.
— Megan Hansen is editor of The Whidbey Examiner. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org