Yesterday was our last full day at the shore, so we made one last visit to the boardwalk and the bay.
|the last time we'll see the boardwalk this empty|
|vintage magazines at a collectors shop on the boardwalk, a history nerd's dream|
|vintage issues of Playboy and Penthouse|
Boyfriend bought me the October 1959 issue of Playboy featuring Kim Novak. His reaction: "You mean to tell me there's only one nipple in this entire magazine?" Yes, porn was classier back then. The ads make me imagine the real-life "Mad Men" who must have created them.
|lonely bench, empty beach, cloudless sky|
|one last sunset on the boatless bay|
|today, kitty suns herself while we get ready to leave|
I'm sad to leave here not only because it's nice to wake up and not have to go to work, but also because this is probably the last year that we'll have this place available to us. For about half of his life, my boyfriend has considered this resort town to be his home base, but when his parents eventually retire and move, he and I will have to make our own home base somewhere else for future holidays and summers. It's one of those unfortunate wormholes into adulthood that everyone experiences at some point. To help ease the transition, I've promised that we'll come back for a weekend or two sometime between now and summer, and of course we'll be here as much as possible once the summer begins. So none of these experiences are for the "last" time, but this is probably the last time we'll get to experience them peacefully alone, without the rush of summer tourist crowds. The sense of an ending does give everything that extra special feeling; we're not taking anything for granted while we're down here. That is one benefit of being forced to close a chapter of one's life.
OK, enough stalling with sentiment! It's time to help with the cleaning and packing so we can head back upstate.