I surrendered the need to pack everyone’s stuff a few trips ago. It was literally me releasing control. Last night, I threw my stuff in the suitcase really not pondering what exactly I was packing. The temperature at the beach is going to be anywhere from 50 to 75 degrees, so I basically packed for at least three seasons. Mother Nature hasn’t been been the same since she switched medications and Father Time cheated on her.
My spouse and oldest seem to have packed hope among their clothes. While I have sweaters and long sleeves, they have T-shirts and shorts. Bailey even packed his hideous muscle shirt. When I tried to talk him out of bringing it, I surrendered because, honestly, if I have learned anything, it is the reality that Bailey is stubborn.
Bryce on the other hand packs like me. We are realistic. Prepared for rain, sleet, snow, or intense heat. Ready for whatever is thrown our way. The reality is that it really doesn’t matter what is packed. We are headed to the beach. Enough said. Rain. Sunshine. Warm. Cold. Don’t really care since I won’t be here suffering through Mother Nature and her indecisiveness regarding what season is currently happening in our fair city.
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