That’s the Atlantic, from Westhampton Beach, NY. Laura took me for a four-day stay in a beach bungalow for my fiftieth birthday last week. We drove out, taking our time, visiting friends and family along the way, spent our time at the bungalow, and then drove back, visiting the same folks on the return trip.
The vacation was literally the first one I’ve taken in my entire life. We realized that every trip I’ve taken until now has been either to visit family or work-related (conventions and such). So my amazing wife decided to take me back to the place where I grew up, so that I could do nothing but rest, relax and recharge.
We stayed at The Beehive Bungalows, a set of 75+ year old beach cottages — a rare remnant of the Long Island of my childhood, before the millionaires metastasized. I expect they’ll eventually be sold and knocked down so that some Hedge Fund Bro or Russian Oligarch can build a tacky, 6,000 sq.ft. McMansion, but I got a chance to stay there while they were still here.
The sense-memories of salt air, sea grass, and the low roar of surf combined with the purposeful inactivity and resulted in easily my Best Birthday Ever. Combined with the fact that I have finally started treatment for my depression and anxiety, and the 10 days of the vacation truly felt like I was being rebooted.
Back home, and back to work now. I’m rejuvenated and ready to turn things around. Onward and upward.