The Same and Different

As my vacation continues (now five days down and five to go) today I happily spent the day heading back to my favourite summer beach, Port Dover, Ontario. I've been going to this beach for years now, from back when I used to pack up my three boys and their sun screen, juice boxes, snacks, frisbees, water bottles, ice packs, hats, flip flops, bug spray, books, blankets, towels, umbrella, lawn chairs and inevitably STILL forgot something and went out for our pilgrimage to the sunny shores.

I am happy at the beach, how can you not be? Today was a perfect day; not too hot, light breeze and because it was a weekday, the beach was very lightly populated. I stopped first for my favourite summer lunch, an Arbor Dog hot dog, fries and Golden Glow. I've written about this delectible treat before but suffice to say, it's worth the drive. It is NOT just a hot dog. I savoured every bite and while I did was amazed by the family who ate at the picnic table behind me.

It was a mom and her two children (at least I assume they were both hers, that may or may not be true). They too were enjoying their dogs and fries but what amazed me was the conversation... The two children were talking about collecting Pokemon cards. Way back in the day, my boys were avid Pokemon collectors. They saved every cent they could, did additional chores and regularly scoured the sofa and chairs for any available spare change so they could make the short trek to our neighbourhood convenience store and buy their latest fix. This may not seem a particulary amazing thing to surrepticiously witness but keep in mind my eldest son is approaching 30 years old. These are not particularly recent family transactions. And this got me to wondering...

Over the years families have come and gone from that beach and like mine, have grown up and changed only to be replaced by other families who by all intents and purposes fill the same mold. I lay on the beach, I closed my eyes and just listened... There was nothing I could hear that would differentiate if I were there in 2013 or 1993. I could hear no iPODs, iPADs, boomboxes, radios, walkmen or any other device belying the date. Only the sound of children playing, parents beckoning their children to "come back a bit closer to shore" and couples looking for the perfect spot to plant for the afternoon. I could just as easily have been at the beach with my boys back when they were little and I was more concerned about their sunscreen than my own.

Even when I opened my eyes, there was little to give away the date other than perhaps an increased frequency of tattooed bodies and purple hair. But it's when you pay attention, you feel the difference. My boys are grown and on their own. The children I hear are not mine. But there is surprising comfort to be found in the consistency of knowing I am walking the same path as I once did with my boys when they were young enough to still want to hold my hand, and that it is the same path that so many other boys walked with their moms before and will for years to come.