So, reader. I'm sure you have a lot of memories, right? I mean, I'm assuming you're some sort of life form, so I'm assuming you have some sort of sense of memory. Even cells have memories, so I'm sure you do. Anyways, so, memories. Why are people so intoxicated with them? Why is it that when we meet someone who is elderly, we wish nothing more than to hear their life stories? Why is it that the places that hold our most precious memories bring us peace and a sense of restoration when we think back on them or revisit them? Or maybe some places hold haunting memories that seem to want to diminish in the back of our minds, but never do, and become fresh, new, and scarily alive once even a glimmer of something reminds us of them? Ormond Beach is one of those places that holds a sentimental and intimate place in my memory.
More specifically, the timeshare my best friend, Gabby's, grandmother owns. I came here for the first time when I was about eight or nine, I think. The place is right on the beach. They have a pool area, then you can walk right out from the pool, on to that beautiful beach. I don't know what it is about this beach in particular. Yes, the water is a little clearer, and it's definitely not as crowded as most beaches I've been to, but there has always been something magical about it to me. I have had so many meaningful conversations on that beach each time I've been here. I have made many friends and had many arguments here that altered and realtered my opinions. Each of the four times that I've been here, I have been a different person than I was the time before. Last year, I was not quite strong in my conviction to be the sort of person I knew I should be and wanted to be, and the year before that I didn't even know what or who I was or who or what I was trying to be, and the time before that (when I was eight or nine), I had no sense or understanding of the world going on around me or what role I played in it -- well, at least not to the extent that I did the time I came after that, but that's expected after five or six years has passed, right?
This year has definitely been the most meaningful, I think. I never realized how connected I was to this place until I came yesterday in the late afternoon to see that the cheesy/70s/beachy-feeling decor of the place had been remodeled. I realized that I had missed the door you have to slam to shut when you use the bathroom and I missed the ugly walls. I had forgotten the comfort of sand being all over the floors and all over my clothing. I had forgotten how much I missed the donut shop and the family-owned pizza store across the street. I had forgotten about the only beach I've ever loved, reader, and I am so sad that this is the shortest I'll have ever stayed here.
I'm going home tomorrow and I'm not sure that I'm happy about that, reader.
More specifically, the timeshare my best friend, Gabby's, grandmother owns. I came here for the first time when I was about eight or nine, I think. The place is right on the beach. They have a pool area, then you can walk right out from the pool, on to that beautiful beach. I don't know what it is about this beach in particular. Yes, the water is a little clearer, and it's definitely not as crowded as most beaches I've been to, but there has always been something magical about it to me. I have had so many meaningful conversations on that beach each time I've been here. I have made many friends and had many arguments here that altered and realtered my opinions. Each of the four times that I've been here, I have been a different person than I was the time before. Last year, I was not quite strong in my conviction to be the sort of person I knew I should be and wanted to be, and the year before that I didn't even know what or who I was or who or what I was trying to be, and the time before that (when I was eight or nine), I had no sense or understanding of the world going on around me or what role I played in it -- well, at least not to the extent that I did the time I came after that, but that's expected after five or six years has passed, right?
This year has definitely been the most meaningful, I think. I never realized how connected I was to this place until I came yesterday in the late afternoon to see that the cheesy/70s/beachy-feeling decor of the place had been remodeled. I realized that I had missed the door you have to slam to shut when you use the bathroom and I missed the ugly walls. I had forgotten the comfort of sand being all over the floors and all over my clothing. I had forgotten how much I missed the donut shop and the family-owned pizza store across the street. I had forgotten about the only beach I've ever loved, reader, and I am so sad that this is the shortest I'll have ever stayed here.
I'm going home tomorrow and I'm not sure that I'm happy about that, reader.
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