My spring vacation

So tomorrow I head off for vacation. Hooray! I wish it was someplace exotic or warm or had cute pool boys holding fruity umbrella drinks, but alas, it is the Oregon Coast. Still it will be fun, sleeping in, watching the rain from a new vantage point, nice!

I may or may not be incognito for the next week. All the new things I get to do on my own will now include trying to find out how to join up to the Internet.

I love Seaside, don't get me wrong but we are not talking about a huge metropolitan city here. Businesses may or may not be there from one week to the next. I think our phone book is at least 8 years old, which is not a plus point in trying to locate help.

I am hopeful that since it will be a week day, some businesses will be open. This is not a foregone conclusion in Seaside. The local paper comes out once a week and still has a column that includes gossip about long time residents (no one I have ever known). We have a ice-cream social for the fourth of July which also includes a cake walk and bingo.

Our home is slightly famous. It was built in 1940 by the town's newspaper owner. At the time it was a long way from town and sometimes you couldn't go in or our depending on how far the river had risen. Now we have a bridge, no forging rivers for me. It is a lovely white cape cod home and I love it dearly. So do tourists who stop and take pictures of it.

Anyway, I believe the original man passed away and his widow remarried. Her new husband was the owner of the drug store/soda shop. He committed suicide in our home, on a porch that is no longer there.

When we first bought the house, 18 years ago, it was told to us in a throaty whisper with wide opened eyes, in case we believed in ghosts or spirits and thought our house was haunted.

We didn't. Still don't. But I do believe that this house, plain white, no bells or whistles, able to stand the test of time, seasons, and coastal storms without a flinch, has good vibes. It provides a good feeling when I walk in.

My kid learned to walk here, ride a bike here, has spent Birthday's, Christmas's, and most every Summer here. He has done summer camps and has played in the water until his lips turned blue. We have brought home enough sand in our shoes to build our own beach.

We have a garage sale here almost every year. It is one of the greatest things about small towns, garage sales ROCK! Ours is packed. Someone still comes up and tells the tale about the sordid past of our home. I let them talk, I let them walk through the house that has really remained unchanged since 1940. I listen politely and discard everything they say.

And at night when I tuck everyone in bed, I swear the house sighs quietly and is happy that another family loves it passionately.