Summers in Delaware
Every summer, the seven of
us would cram into our station wagon with our belongings stored underneath a
row boat on the roof and escaped into the night like a band of refugees to
travel from Pennsylvania to Delaware. Dad would never drive during the day
because of the traffic, but mostly because his five daughters would sleep. We’d
wake up and it was like magic to be in grass, trees and hills one moment and
sand, water and flatlands the next. We’d spend the week in a little cabin by
the lake---swimming, fishing, playing hide-n-seek, having water fights and
cookouts. We’d go to the ocean a few times, and despite Mom’s best efforts, we’d
get sunburnt. Over the years, we got to know the locals and my oldest sister almost
married one of them. That was the summer only four of us girls went down and
slept in a tent on an island, which we learned had a large population of
raccoons and that you shouldn't keep food in your tent unless you want visitors. Eventually going to Delaware was only a memory—well actually, many
memories.
The seven of us
Fun, magical memories
Sand, sun, ocean, lake
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