Childhood’s Summer Holidays

Each summer, when it was almost over, I would ride in a minivan to the Oregon coast.
The van would be full of siblings laughing and parents worrying about the drive.
Early in the morning, the crying dog would be sent to the doggy daycare center,
The blue sky would smile down on us, and the van would only have a room for us.
Headphones, smartphones, books, and everything else would be piled,
In three hours, we would be by the ocean and the jazzy music from my pink headphones.
The tune made the van’s wheels move faster; the little van would stop by the rest stop.
Parents would stretch, and kids would run away and have to be herded back to the blue van.
The kids, like cats, would wander off and have to be commanded back into the van.
The little yellow cottage by the ocean waited patiently for the family that was arriving soon.
The van would pull up in the driveway, and kids and junk would fly out of it.
The little cottage was full of kids and parents running everywhere and halving the family’s belongings.
The screaming would start as the siblings tried to negotiate who was getting what room.
“I AM NOT SLEEPING ON THE COUCH BED AGAIN! I HAVE SLEPT ON THAT THING THE LAST THREE SUMMERS.”
NO, YOU HAVE NOT DONE THAT, NOT TRUE!”
As the two siblings argue, the third quickly puts their stuff in the room with the best bed.
In the end, they play rock, paper, scissors, and the loser grumbles and goes to sit on the couch.
The beds are quickly forgotten as sandals, kites, sunscreen, and running feet disappear.
The beach is covered in sand, and it is a quiet little nook. The kids run down the curved beach.
The kites fly up into the air, quickly thud to grey, hard sand, and fly up again in the blue sky.