Today, I'm going to Montauk. I'm taking the boy. We've been invited to a friend's beach house. The friend and I used to go there all the time, pre-boy, pre-Sean, even. We had great times there. Lots of fun. I met Billy Joel, kissed guys, gazed at the Milky Way, drank way too much, sat in front of the fire reading tarot cards, got sun tans, go-go danced, wrote long hours in my journal, walked on a rainy beach collecting stones, got tumbled in the ocean by wild storm-wrought waves, played tambourine with a cover band, had lobster and watched amazing sunsets... sipped wine, gobbled steak, slept late, walked barefoot... I even decided Sean was The One up there. Ahh, so many memories.
But it's ending. My friend is selling her little house. It was a great place, but it was a drain on them financially and psychically-- always worried that the sea would come in and the dune would collapse and the whole thing would just be swept out into the ocean. They got a nice deal, not great, but nice, and it's time for them to move on. Sigh. I will miss it.
But then again, that time in my life is over, too. I no longer travel light. Where once I could have tossed my swimsuit in a bag and hopped on the train out to the end of Long Island, now I must plan and schedule, scrounge up a car seat, stuff three bags and fold up the stroller, pack the diapers and baby food, figure out what he needs for the weather and then double that. I've got to figure in his naps and nursing and lunch times. I'm certainly not thinking about what I'm going to wear when I go out to bars. It's not an issue anymore.
It's a whole new life, now. Time to dive into the depth and weight of my life now. Sure, it's not fancy free and footloose like it used to be. It's something else entirely. I'm still figuring out what exactly it is, though.