Steering strollers in sand.

I was thinking of another summer story I could document and I keep coming back to Gail and the beach. Maybe because this blog was inspired by Gail and probably because I'm at the beach. Not much of a creative stretch.

Write down a beach memory. Any beach memory.

Here's mine, but I need to build to it.

The summer after we graduated from high school, Jon and his friends shared a house in Avalon, New Jersey, a quaint shore town that has become crazy expensive. At the time, however, a group of guys could afford to rent four walls of stinky nastiness.

At 18, I was not allowed to live with a group of friends at the beach. My parents were stricter -- much. However, I was allowed to live with my friend Betsy in her family's beautiful and historic Cape May Victorian which was more than I ever thought they'd permit. (There must be a catch.) 

I am forever grateful to Betsy's family for taking me in, with their tasteful decor and sporadic parental supervision. Betsy and I worked obscenely early hours at Bodacious Bagels, drove to Avalon most nights (we didn't miss the fun), then always had a nice, clean place to sleep. Call me crazy, but I prefer my resting environment to be nice and clean, not a damp, sheet-less mattress.

All the while, my mom was home, proud and dying. This was her plan. Keep me at a distance as she declined. (The catch.)

By September my mom was very sick. To add a twist to the tragedy, Gail announced that she was pregnant with my parents' first grandchild, which turned out to be grandchildren – twins! – though my mom never knew there were two.

It was hard on Gail. She was young. Just 24. Pregnant with twins. Mourning our mother. But staying sad was impossible. As Gail grew, so did the excitement. I loved her pregnancy. It was entirely new, completely novel. Babies! In our family! I remember Gail visiting me at college in an over-sized Bud Light rain slicker. All big and slippery and slightly inappropriate. I remember her burgeoning belly. Her happiness. She was adorable and healthy and expecting identical boys, or so we thought.

Apparently in 1990, they didn't do many (quality) ultrasounds because their predictions were completely wrong. Gail thought she was due in early May so we planned for babies in April. By April's end, no babies. By mid-May, no babies. Perhaps their calculations were off? Uh, clearly.

I started to panic. This summer, the summer after my first year of college, I was allowed to live in Avalon with a group of friends because no one says "no" to a girl who's mother just died. (Gone were the strict parents replaced by a father who was now dating and detached.) I was lucky enough to land a coveted job as a waitress and was expected to start before Memorial Day. I had no choice but to leave and there were still no babies.

A few days later, I called from a pay phone outside of Circle Pizza. There was news! Staticy, incredible news on a dirty, hard plastic receiver. A boy and a girl! Scott and Nicole. I loved them immediately.

A few weeks later, Gail came to Avalon for a visit. Recovering from a c-section, most likely sleep deprived, she buckled her twins in their car seats and drove to South Jersey. She wanted to go for a swim so we went straight to the beach, rolled the stroller across the sand (which is terribly difficult) and parked the sleeping twins next to the lifeguard, who I knew casually. We asked if he could kindly watch the babies while we took a quick dip. Sure.

Meanwhile, dark clouds began to gather. We dipped and dashed and then rolled the stroller off the beach as fast as we could (which was not fast at all) as the rain came. Laughing.

Once again, the reason I love this story is because it's so Gail. Who would take newborns to the beach and ask a shirtless stranger to babysit with a storm on the way? Gail would, a motherless mother who didn't know any better, who just wanted a brief float in the cool ocean while reality slept in the shadow of a lifeguard stand. 

Just a few days ago, during her nursing school break, Nicole came to stay with us in (when did it get so damn expensive!) Avalon. I thought of the 22 year-old story for the first time in a long time. And I smiled. And I went for a dip in the cool ocean while Nicole played with Beazy in the sand. Time flies forward in a flash and what goes around tends to come around in strange and wonderful ways.

The Circle (Pizza?) of Life.

Cousin Coley and Bea. Weeee!