Part 159 Escape, or when all else fails, go back to the beach to hide from the real world


On a Friday afternoon in mid October our family coasts to Bolivar. Half way there my groin pain kicks in again. I struggle to maintain my composure as the pain intensifies and the normally rather brief drive drags. After arriving at the beach house, I promptly lie down and pop enough aspirin to make it stop. After lying out in the sun much of the day, we get a pizza from the new restaurant in town. It features sweet peppers flown in from Pennsylvania, and is delicious. The kids split a fettuccini alfredo which is also terrific. When Brooke and Bree finally fall asleep, Becah and I sit up and watch a show together.

After breakfast the next morning, beautifully sunny, we drive to take the ferry to Galveston, listening to Steve Winwood’s fine “About Time” CD. On the ferry we toss breadcrumbs as the seagulls instantly try to snatch them before the other birds can. We are surprised to see crowds of people here during the off season (an art festival is apparently drawing them in). We check out a few shops, then stop for lunch at Yaga’s. After this, Becah and I treat the kids to a carriage ride drawn by a horse named Pebbles. Our animal-loving children are excited about this. We return on the ferry, throwing the seagulls croutons this time (intended for a dinner salad). As on the trip over, dolphins accompany us. Becah cooks a skillet of shrimp in butter and Italian dressing for us while the kids have more pasta. The highlight of their dinner, though, is, of all things, the canned green beans. They scarf these as if they were a treasure. We watch game six of the American league baseball playoffs, pulling for the Texas Rangers as they come from behind 0-2 in the third inning for a nine-rune rally to eventually pound Detroit 15-5. The real excitement comes, though, when my hernia kicks in and I am writhing on the couch trying to bring the swelling down. I realize that I must take action soon to remedy this.

Brett the dog wakes me up early the next morning with his clicketty-clicketty nails scraping across the hardwood floor as he makes his morning house rounds. I walk to the beach to watch the sunrise. Later I return with Becah and the kids as the children dig in the sand. We head home about noon, but first I must stop at the surf shop to pick up some stylish new flip flops.

I enjoy this time, knowing that another reality awaits me.