Although I don’t live with them and hardly ever see them, I constantly think about my family. It’s usually the same thoughts too, memories of my grandparents’ island. It is called “The Landings,” located off the coast of Savannah Georgia; it is my single favorite place in the world. My mother’s parents moved to the island when they retired; and I’m incredibly grateful that it plays such a major role in my life. The Landings is extremely charismatic, since it is almost made up entirely of golf courses, beautiful sunsets, bike paths that lead everywhere, and simple memories. The island began to impact me when I first visited at a young age. Today, the walls of the house and wet- salty air are reminiscent of my family’s lively summer gatherings. …show more content…
I flew there alone and ran into my grandparents arms as they waited for me at the Savannah Airport. I will never forget how genuinely happy they were to see me and have me visit. I spent my days as an only child with an entire island to explore. I would run around in awe of the southern setting and numerous willow and palm trees that grew in the sand. Although the scenery is incredible, my grandparents’ house is their pride. Located right on the water, the back porch overlooks the ocean’s horizon, making even the house have a calm character. The entrance consists of an elegant chandelier and handmade blue tiles; however, step into the next room and there is a sudden twist of a beach culture. It is a room with a safari theme, complete with pretend toucans and a life-sized stuffed gorilla named Bo-Bo. When I was young I would venture into my grandfather’s office, which has a workshop attached to it, this became the art studio where I would create amateur works of art for my grandmother. During the day I would read to my grandparents and meet their friends. With my grandfather I made doll houses, played golf, and even went fishing for sharks. One of my strongest memories is of my grandfather and me going fishing. We took our poles out to the ocean where Grandpa caught a baby shark and shortly thereafter a mother shark bit onto my line. As a little kid, it was surreal. At the end of …show more content…
For a few summers the house would hold me, my grandparents, my parents, younger sister, younger brother, uncle, aunt, and two small cousins. When I remember my entire family I think of everyone on the island. I remember everyone spending hours pool and beach side. I remember my brother and me taking a golf cart to explore the coast and discover a watch tower we never knew existed. I remember the details of my uncle’s screen play that I found from ten years ago. I remember going to the Savannah College of Art and Design with my siblings, mother, and grandmother to shop for art. I remember playing tennis with my aunt and dad, and playing golf with my grandfather after having him teach me for years. My grandfather would grill fresh caught fish and everyone would eat dinner together. When I think of my family, these are the moments I think back to; the memories are peaceful and
The whole island is in the shape of a giant square with white sandy beaches full of people sunbathing, swimming and fishing right on the shoreline. From the end of the hot pavement parking lot to shore of the beach is an ocean of soft white sand. The pearlescent white sand seems to know how to invade every nook and cranny almost as if it enjoys it. Walking around the beach on the fluffy whiteness surrounding the parking lot, the seagulls are fighting over scraps of food on the ground. “Sandy beach ecosystems provide invaluable services to humankind. Their functions have been exploited through history, with significant anthropogenic effects (Lucrezi, 2015)”. This white sandy beach is a beautiful refuge from the mundane grind of everyday life. The smell of the misty ocean air mixed with the sound of seagulls hovering above and kids playing is a tonic for the mind. The feel of the sand between their toes and the waves crashing over them as people swim in the water, or the jerk of a fishing pole when someone is catching a fish makes Fred Howard Park one of the best places to relax. Standing on the beach looking out on the water, people are kayaking and windsurfing. The lifeguards watching vigilantly in their bright red shirt and shorts, blowing their whistles when they see someone being unsafe. After a long day of swimming and laying around visitors head back over the soft white sand to the showers, in order to rinse off the menacing sand that clings to everything like a bad habit. Everyone rushes over the hot pavement burning their feet to reach their cars so they can put away their beach paraphernalia which is still covered in the white sand, nearly impossible to completely leave behind, so when they get home it serves as a reminder of where they were that
A. Creech accounted for many memories during her early childhood years. She took many trips with her parents and four siblings. She enjoyed the company of others and making memories. Often, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, and friends visited her and her family, making her always used to warm, large, extended family. Her favorite memories came from Creech’s traditional summer vacations to various destinations. She loved road tripping with her “noisy and rowdy family” across the country. Her never-forgotten memories eventually led to her recreation of the trip into many of her books.
Imagine yourself sitting on a lava rock cliff, hearing the ocean pounding the rock wall below. The salty sea spray cools your lips and the taste tickles your tongue. Feeling the sun against your skin, it is cooled by the mix of mist and breeze that plays with the palm trees. You could say I grew up in a place most people can only daydream about. When most people hear of where I grew up all they can picture is paradise. There is so much more to the “Aloha State” than the stale beachside hotels covered in an abundance of hibiscus prints with pineapples around every turn. The people, food, and land are the heart of the Hawaiian Islands.
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
As a Haitian immigrant, my parents and I would spend our family vacations in our hometown of Port-au- Prince, Haiti. I would enjoy participating in family activities such as card games, cooking, and just the quality time that we spent together. We could play these games and laugh amongst each other for hours, without a care in the world merely telling jokes and listening to the elder parables. Amongst my family I felt untouchable. Like a tree in the wind, my only cares were that of the breeze and the beauty of my foundation. In the sway of the wind I was overcome with a sense of peace.
When my family and I could feel the warm fine sand, the gentle cool breeze, witness the crystal clear aquamarine ocean and swaying palm trees, and smell the sweet fragrant scent of plumerias, we must have gone to heaven. The enchanting beauty of this Hawaiian island, Maui, gives us a sense of warmth, peace, and serenity. In search of paradise, we explore the infamous Road to Hana, snorkel with underwater marine life, and journey back in time to experience the true customs, traditional cuisine and the original song, music and dance of Hawaii at a luau.
As a kid going to southern Indiana for my family's weekend reunion in the middle of July seemed to be a stress-free heaven. Talking with family while eating all of the great food everyone made, and awesome fishing in the glistening pond served as a retreat from the textbooks, homework, and tests in school. Although I never did any reading, writing, or math at the reunion, I learned some of the most valuable lessons at that 50-acre property in the dog days of summer. My great uncle, who owned the pond, taught me the best fishing spots, my dad taught me how to set up a tent, and my uncle Vance taught me the great values of our family between old folk songs. It was from these stories that I developed a great sense of pride in my family.
As we pulled out of my parents driveway, the circumstances seemed very surreal. My entire way of life had been turned upside down with only a few hours consideration. I was very much “at sea” in the ...
It’s funny how things that you used to do as a kid can change the course of people’s lives. Myself, when my parents told me and my brothers and sisters that we were going to the cabin meant a week of solid fun. My family has a cabin up on Camano Island, which is about 20 minutes north of Everett, right off of the I-5 interstate. My family would go up there during the summer with my cousins and grandma, and go swimming when the tide was in, build sandcastles when the tide was out, only to have them washed away when the tide came back in, build forts with the new driftwood that came in each year, explore the wrecked ship down the beach in one direction from our cabin, and scour the dunes that were north of our cabin. The dunes were the best part going to the cabin. We would always try to get there by walking along the wood that had been washed up and once we got there, we would race up the hills and jump down into the sand pits below. Another things that we all used to love doing, were to see who had carved messages into the sides of the dunes. There were all sorts of messages, love message from husband to wife, boyfriend to girlfriend. ‘I was here’ messages, and then there were simply names. That is what we always used to do. Every year, my two cousins, dad, three siblings and I would climb up into the dunes and carve our names into the wall using sticks. This was done over and over again for about 8-10 years. Over the last couple of years we did this we noticed that we could see a house at the top of the dunes. This was something that we never noticed before and when we asked my dad, he said that he never noticed it either. We thought nothing about it at the time, carved our names in the wall and went back to the cabin. Later on we heard from other people who lived up there that there was a big concern by the people who live in that house that all of the messages that people had carved along with the natural erosion of the hills has caused the hill side to be dangerously close to being pushed back far enough to where the house might fall down.
When I think back to the days when I was a child, I think about all of my wonderful childhood memories. Often I wish to go back, back to that point in life when everything seemed simpler. Sometimes I think about it too much, knowing I cannot return. Yet there is still one place I can count on to take me back to that state of mind, my grandparent’s house and the land I love so much.
It was finally fall break. I was visiting my grandma for a few days. Well past dinnertime, I pulled up to the white stately home in northern rural Iowa. I parked my car, unloaded my bag and pillow, and crunched through the leaves to the front porch. The porch was just how I had seen it last; to the right, a small iron table and chairs, along with an old antique brass pole lamp, and on the left, a flowered glider that I have spent many a summer afternoon on, swaying back and forth, just thinking.
Looking back on a childhood filled with events and memories, I find it rather difficult to pick on that leaves me with the fabled “warm and fuzzy feelings.” As the daughter of an Air Force Major, I had the pleasure of traveling across America in many moving trips. I have visited the monstrous trees of the Sequoia National Forest, stood on the edge of the Grande Canyon and have jumped on the beds at Caesar’s Palace in Lake Tahoe. However, I have discovered that when reflecting on my childhood, it is not the trips that come to mind, instead there are details from everyday doings; a deck of cards, a silver bank or an ice cream flavor.
As I look back on my childhood a great number of memories hide in my mind; sleepovers with friends, hanging upside down on the monkey bars, eating ice cream are but a few. The one memory that doesn't hide is of the postcard perfect house that I love and adore. From the hearty cattails and rose brown apple trees to the grilled cheese, this place reminds me of my childhood fun but also the love that my whole family shared. The red brick house and its surroundings will keep my memories forever.
The air is really fresh, and the wind is comfortable. Grandma usually opened the window during the daytime; I still remembered that feeling when the sunshine came in house and scatter. I walking among those numerous grand trees and admire colored leaves on the trees and on the ground. I miss that feeling of calmness and stability of the world around. I wish I could return the reality of those feelings once more. Memories in mind and never forget about happiness of staying in my grandmother’s house. Grandparent’s time-honored gift to their grandchildren is their unconditional love, unfettered by schedules, routines or commitments. They reinforced their grandchildren’s sense of security and self-value.
While walking by the shore I was amazed by the soft smooth sand beneath my feet, it seemed like all the worries I had throughout the year were finally erased. There was a rock facing the ocean that it thought was really cool, so I decided to settle there for a moment to appreciate the view, I closed my eyes for a second letting myself comforted by the sounds of the ocean, the sounds the waves were making against the rocks was impressive. Spending a few more minutes on the rock I decided to go back. Tying to help my parents for making breakfast, they sent me and my brother to get bread, and a few croissants at the bakery. My brother was driving while I was still wondering the landscape, I thought it was interesting how this island contained a mix between mountains, and beaches. At the table, conversations were spontaneous and positives, I forgot how fun breakfast could be when spending with family. That day we had has a plan to go to the beach, my mom could guess what me and my father had in mind. It was scuba diving and hunting with harpoons, but before we had to first buy the necessary equipment, and study the fishes we could hunt, since some were protected, and review the fishes that were edible. Finally done with preparation we headed to the beach, me and my dad waited that day for so long, being a big fan of hunting, I was quite impressed by the number of variety the Mediterranean Sea could provide, also what really shocked