You CAN Go Back Again....

I pretty much spent my childhood summers soaking wet.  We had a pool in the yard at all times. 2 foot collapsible sided all the way up to 4 ft “permanent” above ground (aka: replace every so often when the metal cutouts near the filter became lethal)  We also had a “wet banana” (the slip and slide’s generic cousin and in my opinion more interesting.. I mean, how cool is it to chase your brother and sister around the yard with a banana shaped sprinkler?) as well as a town pool within bike riding distance (not that my mother ever allowed us to ride there, but it essentially was).  Of course the big trip was out to THE BEACH, aka: the state beach at Hampton (never never never on the ‘strip’, always the state beach), complete with the one lane traffic, headlights on for safety and the creepy white crosses we counted each and every time we went.  All part of my summer memories, but none so strong nor as consistent as Greenfield State Park. 

Yesterday my mother, children and I went out to Greenfield for the day.  Loaded up the car with our chairs, picnic basket, floats, and toys and off we went.  Driving out there seemed to take forever, just like it did when I was a kid- As soon as I saw my first CAMP WOOD sign on the side of the road, I knew we were close! Driving into the park itself, past the guard-shack and down to the public beach, it hit me.  Hey, did this place shrink?   It was so BIG when I was little.  The beach was always HUGE, the water deep, the grassy area expansive.  Even the store was different-  what used to be a decked walk up to the window area to get hamburgers and ice cream is now a walk into the building store.  So different!  

Until it wasn’t.  

The campers beach was the same, it looked the same-  same size, same boats off to the side as it used to have.  The marshy grass was the same, spongy and fragrant.  The sand was still rough on the top layer, but after digging down a bit, you had the same cool, damp clay like dirt that made the BEST drip castles.  The mussels were still there at the water’s edge, empty shells for Ellie to collect and show off to me each time she found one.  The dragonflies were there.  Dancing and landing nearby to say hello.  The water was still nice and warm and flowing in that diagonal direction, just so much that you could float back to shore easily without forethought.  

As a child we spent so much time up there camping.  We owned that campground-  normally at least 5 loud and happy kids on bicycles, riding around checking out the tents and campers.  Being nosy to see what other kids were there, cool enough to be friends with or ones to watch out for down at the beach.  We’d get 2 campsites side by side and drag the tables together to create one larger “living area”.  Scattering into the woods to find our marshmallow sticks, kindling and fire starting materials-  lugging the “litter johns” to the water spout.  Everyone had a job to do before we could FINALLY get down to the beach for a swim.  

I didn’t walk over to the camping beach yesterday but I remember the path over the bridge from the public beach.  There used to be an old swing set off to the right before you turned to go to the camper’s beach.  There was a great area on the water’s edge outside of the swimming area that was always full of fish and random toads.  I remember lily pads.  I remember the hill that led down from the camper’s beach parking lot, always dark and covered in slippery pine needles.  I honestly think I could still remember which roots stood out higher to make sure I didn’t trip and fall.

At one point in time, I think I knew every section of the beach and campground.  When we weren’t there camping, we were there just for the day to go swimming.  My mother reminded me yesterday that we used to go out there at least once or twice a week during the summer.  It’s amazing to return after so many years.  Sure, it looked smaller upon first sight.  But that was just the first glimpse.  I blinked and then I remembered.  I ate my salami and cheese sandwich.  Dug in the sand and talked to the dragonfly that landed on my leg.  Watched my children imprint their own memories.  On the way home my mom mentioned returning again maybe next week.  

 And I agree.