day 124: things I know

Black seashells are my favorite. They’re not what you’d expect. They’re easy to pick out, but not too common. I like that.

The time to apply sunscreen is before you think you’ll really need sunscreen. Which means a day that doesn’t seem too hot when you’re frolicking in the ocean, covered by water, can be one that is secretly scorching you. And then the rest of your day is shot because all your kids do is complain about being burnt, and you feel like the world’s worst parent. And then you don’t get to enjoy the wedding like everyone else does.

Nothing clears a beach of wave waders and boogie boarders and swimmers like the shout of “Shark!” Even if it’s all the people dashing across the beach to see one caught by man who was a little ways out in a boat, who brought it to shore for all to gawk at. Sharks are amazing creatures. I’ve always been in awe of them. Sort of secretly like them. Now sort of secretly proud that I can say that I’ve been at the beach and saw a shark there. He let it go, mind you. And seeing those fins poke above the water’s surface was pretty wild.

I don’t run much anymore. I would never be seen running in my swimming suit. However, if I had to run in my swimming suit to see a shark on the beach, I would. I did. It was worth it. And I’m fairly certain that no one was paying one bit of attention to me at the time. So we’re good.

Corolla the beach town is most definitely not pronounced like the car Corolla, from Toyota. It’s ker-all-uh, which means I have to remind myself that it sounds like a koala before each time I say it. Confusing. But fancy.

You’ve not had a super good time at the beach until a wave hits you that pulls your bottoms off.

The tooth fairy knows how to find us, even in the Outer Banks.

I could so live here. I could live in a shack, cause I’m afraid if I lived here, I’d never be home. I’d be okay with that.

These things I know. But one thing remains a mystery to me. I’ve never before been to this place on this earth with my husband. Somehow, I now feel the hole of his absence so much larger than usual. Why is that? Cause it’s our first “real” family vacation, and I feel like I cannot truly enjoy it because he’s not here? Is that why I don’t feel like it’s a “real” family vacation, because if my whole family’s not here, it doesn’t count? I don’t get it. Still miss him something fierce.