Another
World
Each
summer, the seven of us packed into a station wagon
with
our things under an upside-down row boat on top,
and
snacks and bread bags full of sandwiches in a metal cooler
and
we’d escape like refugees in the middle of the night.
The
youngest squeezed between our parents in the front
while
the older four stuffed into the back leaning our heads
on
each other’s shoulders one way until one of us would say,
“Lean!”
and we’d switch and lean the other way.
On
the way to Delaware, from Pennsylvania,
we’d
always tell our parents to wake us up
when
we crossed the Bay Bridge. They never did.
I
wondered why until I was a parent myself.
We
arrived at the cabins in Laurel, Delaware
as
the day dawned. They faced a sandy area
and
then the lake with docks, boats and a swimming beach.
For
a week we lived in a different world from trees and hills,
having
the time of our lives: swimming, fishing,
playing
hide and seek with locals and other vacationers.
We’d
also go to the ocean and sun burn despite Mom’s best efforts.
Then
we’d return home where it looked strange, grassy and beachless.
