Yesterday we left our safe little harbor (Cape Cod Bay) and decided to take on the mighty Atlantic. Our thought was at ages 6 and 13 the kids could, and wanted to, handle a little extra excitement.
Fast forward through the packing the car ordeal, paying $20 for parking and schlepping across the public beach for a 4x4 square of sand. (You see the one great thing about the Windy Gulch shack is the private beach location on quiet bay).
We edged into the bone chilling water and squealed along with the kids at the pounding surf and undertow action. Thrilling, right? Well little 6-year old C wanted badly to try her boogie board in the surf. Aunt Wenderina was up for the challenge of showing her how it was done...almost.
I caught a wave that I swear was the size and speed of a tsunami. At the crest I looked down...way down...and as my mouth opened and an unholy scream squealed out, I thought this will not end well for me.
A few crashing waves and sandburns later my loving hubby rushed to my rescue sure I was going under for good.
I feel a little like Dorothy - no need to search farther than your own backyard for happiness. Lesson learned. Never wander away from a perfectly happy little place...at least not without scuba gear.
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