Going to the beach house during spring break was bittersweet this year. After my dad passed away last year, my mom has decided to sell it. With the cost of insurance, upkeep and taxes, it is just to hard too maintain. The last hurricane that completely destroyed one of the bedrooms was a big deciding factor. We are all sad. Buying the house was my dad's dream and I am so thankful that we had 10 wonderful years to enjoy it. When I was a child, I remember going to my grandparent's houses in East Texas and my children will always remember going to the "Beach House." They will remember building sand castles, jumping the waves, finding sea glass and exploring everything that the ocean had to offer. I will remember how happy that house made my mama and daddy. They named it Sea Fever after a poem John Masefield. The sea air was medicine for my dad's soul and medicine for the COPD that would eventually take his life. For my mom, letting go of the beach house is letting go of a piece of my dad. It is for all of us.
"Sea-Fever"
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)
