I’ve only been to Long Island 3 times.
1) At 17, to visit Hofstra University. Way too congested for my taste.
2) At 25, to go to my friend, Beth’s, wedding – not sure the town but I sure remember the traffic! (And I remember that my brand new car got scraped in the parking lot at the synagogue. No note, of course.)
3) With Liz when I was 31 (pictured here) with Davis at 15 months to Montauk.
My first brush with LI was at camp. (Incidentally, I took Andrew and the boys to see my camp last summer. One of my first years, there were girls in my bunk from Harrisburg, Lebanon PA, Hazelton, Philly, and one girl from Mineolalangilan. Everyone else seemed to know where that was so I didn’t dare ask. But when I went home and my parents asked about the bunk, I told them.
Imagine the belly laughter that ensued.
But I digress.
I love this photo of Davis and me on the beach. I love remembering. He laughed and ate champagne grapes and butter for dinner while Liz and I had a gourmet meal. If I recall, he ate some mussels and clams, too, neither of which he’ll eat now. On the other hand, his taste for butter has definitely maintained – possibly even grown.
The beach there was so peaceful. And while it’s never peaceful having a toddler, it was lovely.
My little baby is in high school. He’s as sweet as ever except for an occasional eye-roll.
Time flies when you’re having fun.
Life is a beach.