Summer Vacation

My parents were firm believers in family vacations. For most people, a family vacation consists of parents and children. In my case, a family vacation included the full entourage of my direct relatives with the addition of my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and any pets that had survived long enough to endure another summer journey.
Our vacations always involved a road trip, complete with a caravan of vehicles, packed to the roof with supplies and children. Being from upstate New York, our destinations were usually on the eastern seaboard. We frequented Maine, Cape Cod and other sandy, New England destinations. My family, who never stayed in hotels, were frequent guests at local camp grounds. We were a traveling hotel on wheels, complete with tents, screened in rooms, and a full compliment of kitchen accessories. I can never remember going out to eat while on vacation, and I imagine most people would have considered us quite poor. We were, however, rich in our love for each other and in the memories we created.
Our souvenirs were the "priceless" shells we collected on the beach each day. We discovered glass that we were certain were priceless treasures that had washed in from pirate ships of old. At night, we roasted marshmallows until our bellies were full. We were then gently lulled to sleep by the melodic tone of my grandfather's voice as he read us the mesmerizing, yet terrifying works of James Whitcomb Riley. "An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you ef you don't watch out!"
One of the best parts about these trips was spending time with my sister. My sister has been, and always will be, one of my dearest friends. She may not know the depths of my affection for her, as my family is not the outwardly affectionate sort. However, there are few people I would rather spend time with than her. She is the only sibling I have and I, being the older of the two, have always had a sense of responsibility for her safety, but more importantly for her entertainment. Oh, did I entertain! I have such wonderful memories of silly jokes, and outlandish stories told by flashlight. Memories of fabulous castles we built, and remembrance of times we buried each other's bodies in the sand. I still remember the warmth of the sun on my face, and the warmth of the love in my heart, as we sat alongside watching the mighty roar of the ocean as it crashed to the shore. I remember laying under the deep blue night sky, wishing on a star that we would always be together, just us forever.
I do remember a few years when times were tough and gasoline was in short supply. These were the years we vacationed at home. Free from the onslaught of our extended family, my sister and I embarked on countless imaginary journeys. The house we grew up in had a large, walkout basement, the majority of which was dedicated to my sister and me and to our abundant collection of toys. Together we would leave the real world of grown-ups and chores and would travel to destinations unknown. This basement was our portal to the world of childhood imagination, where anything was possible.
Oh, the fun we had! We shared train rides to far away places and met magical creatures never before seen by man. We held tea parties hosting only the finest guests, and princess weddings were held daily (complete with a pink wedding dress and our own extended version of the wedding march). We visited other countries innumerable times, and Barbie was never neglected in her high-rise dream house. We would rock our dolls to sleep and would dream aloud of a future filled with marvelous things that only children can understand.
Time has passed, and my sister and I now vacation with families of our own. I continue to cherish those childhood voyages, now faded and worn, and hold them closely in the scrapbook of my mind. Perhaps someday I will tell more of these travels in greater detail, but the hour grows late, and the grown-up world calls. So for now, I will tuck these memories safely away, kept for another day.