Cape Cod

Being on the Cape this past week has been a kind of revisiting of my childhood. A coming back to the summers I spent here with my grandparents and family. Their little Cape Cod home is now surrounded by parking lots, owned by a local shipping company. Their yard gone and the rose garden my grandpa so carefully cultivated…gone too. The house gutted and now used for office space. But in my mind’s eye I picture the people…the sounds…the smells…the love that transpired within the walls of that little home.

Grandpa tenderly caring for my grandma. One side of her body paralyzed from a stroke, walking and talking were hard for her. But Grandpa would smile and sing to her “dancing with tears in my eyes, for the girl in my arms is not you.” Sometimes they would sway together, caught up in their own memories of younger sweeter gentler days. “My pet” she would say to him.

In the morning, if we woke up early enough, we kids could join Grandpa for his daily walk down to the harbor which was only a block away. Together we would wait for the boats to return from their early morning fishing runs. The sights of the fishermen working on their boats, the smell of the salt water and fish, the sounds of the sea gulls, the lapping waves, the hustle of people working at the harbor—such a fascinating world to a child. My very proper grandpa would shout to a fisherman on a boat, “what’s the catch of the day?” He’d then place his order which was wrapped up tight in paper and we would stroll back to the house. Our morning mission accomplished, later we would feast on that fishy goodness.

The memories are vivid. The very English tea, always at 3:00 in the afternoon. In the evening, Grandpa would meticulously prepare and smoke his pipe (best. smell. ever.). Playing Parcheesi in the backyard with my grandma. She would carefully use her functioning hand to move the pieces. I didn’t mind these long slow games, it was one of the few ways she could still connect with her grandchildren. The lobster boils and steamed clams shared around the cozy round kitchen table with the lazy susan in the middle. Walking to the beach to swim in the ocean, climbing the enormous slippery flat rocks along the jetty, and then later that night, laying in bed with the taste of salt on my skin and lips. Oh how I loved the lazy days of those Cape Cod summers.

The magic of the Cape will always be the people that once occupied the space at 27 Nantucket St—who breathed the ocean air and walked that sandy ground. So many sweet memories—of days filled with life and love and laughter. The echoes of their love still whisper to me today. Thank you Grandma and Grandpa—love you always. 💕 Tara