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A Strange Time in a Familiar Place

By Renee Heath



Every summer my mom and I (and sometimes other members of the family) would pack into her small Honda Civic with no air conditioning and make the four-hour drive to Port Aransas, Texas to spend a week at the beach. The trip was always a little miserable, especially for me, who often was stuck in the backseat where the wind was blowing so loud I couldn’t hear a word being said from the front seat. I almost always arrived at the hotel with a big mass of tangles on my head because, for whatever stubborn reason, I refused to put my hair up.


There is a bridge that you can drive over to get onto the island but we always took the ferry even though by that point we were tired and hot from the car ride and there was often a long line. As soon as the smell of saltwater hit your nose, though, none of that mattered anymore. It was a tradition for us to get out of the car on the less than five minute ferry ride, like we were greeting the island. Sometimes, if we were lucky, we would even see dolphins swimming in the waves that the big boat left behind.


The thing I love the most about that town is how it always seems to stay the same, even now (although a few more things have changed since Hurricane Harvey). We would stay at the same motel, visit the same parts of the beach, and always drive past the same orange seafood restaurant that I never did learn the name of. The minute you drive onto the island, the atmosphere changes completely, which sounds so cliché but it’s true. Everything is so relaxed, even the people who live there seem to be on vacation 24/7.

In most parts of my life, I often look for change. I dye my hair different colors when I’m bored, I’m always thinking about my next tattoo, or redecorating, and I’m always looking for a new place to visit, or a new thing to try. I tend to get bored when things stay exactly the same for too long, but there is a comfort in the familiarity of that small beach town, in knowing that when we return the next year it will look exactly the same.


I very recently visited Port Aransas again and although things have changed a little bit since Hurricane Harvey destroyed so much of the island, it still holds that same familiarity it’s had for as long as I can remember.


Unfortunately, the hotel we always stayed at was leveled and unable to be rebuilt. We drove past it on this last trip and it was still just an empty lot except from the weeds growing where the rooms used to be. It’s strange to think that someday, whatever is built there will seem so commonplace to someone visiting Port Aransas on their annual family trip. Many of the buildings had to be repaired and as a result, look a little different, but overall not much has changed. The grocery store looks exactly the same as it has for the past twenty two years of my life. The bright orange seafood place is still there and I still have absolutely no idea what it’s called. Even now that I'm in college and no longer living with my mom, we still try the best we can to keep up this tradition, sometimes with my half brother and sister. I hope that if someday I decide to have kids, they will come to love that little island town as much as I do.

Just a few weeks ago, my mom and I decided to take a trip to the beach. We've both been struggling with the stay at home orders - she was laid off from her job and, as introverted as I am, I was really starting to miss my friends and just going places in general - but had been following all the rules and social distancing. I was being extra careful since I live with my grandparents right now, who are considered high risk. I was very anxious about taking a trip but also very eager to get out of the house for a while. I love my grandparents, but being with them constantly is exhausting. I made sure to book a hotel with a kitchenette so we would be able to cook and not go out. We went grocery shopping beforehand so we would not have to buy food. The closer it got to the trip, the more my anxiety was replaced with excitement. I couldn’t wait to spend all day at the beach and maybe even get a little tan (which was a total dream – I don’t tan). We took as many precautions as possible and I wasn't too concerned about it because it's very easy to just drive further down the beach where there are fewer people.


I expected that there would be some people who were fed up with staying home and social distancing and not following the rules but what I didn't expect was for literally everyone there to decide that the pandemic was no longer a thing to worry about for them. I saw a total of three people wearing masks the entire time we were there, including the hotel staff. Apparently, I hadn’t researched the hotels as well as I thought. They didn’t seem to be taking any extra precautions at all. When we checked in, there was one other family in the lobby and we were the only two wearing masks, which it turns out, makes you feel a little ridiculous.


As I predicted, it was easy to keep our distance from people on the beach for the most part which is where we spent the majority of our time anyway. It also felt like people were going out of their way to be around us. On the first day on the beach, a group of older women came up and asked us to take their picture. The next day, a woman came up to look at my tattoos, which under normal circumstances, I would be thrilled – I could talk about tattoos all day but this time it just made me anxious. It felt like I had a big sign over my head telling people I absolutely didn’t mind if they came near me.

Although we had planned to not have to go into any stores, we ended up having to go get ice a few times. The few times that we did go to the store, though, felt like any other trip to the store before the pandemic, but not in a good way. The first day, we just stopped at a gas station. It was packed and no one was social distancing. At the beginning of all this I would make fun of my grandma for constantly talking about it, but I guess it had rubbed off on me. After that, we decided the grocery store might be a little better. At least it was bigger and you could keep your distance from people a little better. And it was better. A little. There were a few more people wearing masks but people had no problem getting right behind you in line and I spent most of the trip wondering if I was going to end up getting my grandparents sick and that it wasn't worth a trip to the beach.


I completely understand peoples' frustration with not being able to go about life as normal. I would give anything to be able to go to a concert or take a spontaneous weekend trip with one of my best friends. At this point, I would settle for going to the grocery store without feeling like I’m taking a risk. But I also desperately wish that people would take the time to consider that, even though they are not concerned for themselves, they should try the best they can to wear a mask out of consideration for others. I tried to remind myself that I was doing the best that I could to keep myself safe, but it didn’t help that we started hearing about the spikes in cases and hospitalization in states like Arizona and Texas, where I live, during the trip. What a time to be on a crowded island. I remember reading a post from a local on the island talking about how now that the beaches are reopened, all the tourists were coming to the grocery stores without masks and looking at those with masks with disdain. Now I understand exactly what that local meant, except in this scenario, I was the tourist.


I didn't realize how important such small things were to me until I couldn't do them. I didn’t realize that it would take a vacation to make me understand this. I also acknowledge that I have it a lot better than a lot of people and I constantly have to remind myself of that. I still have a job and I am able to work right now. I also understand peoples' frustration with wearing masks but I think it is incredibly important and considerate of other people.


It's very hard to come to terms with the fact that things are not going back to 'normal' any time soon or maybe ever. At least not our current definition of normal. But I feel that it’s something we have to do in order to move forward so we can all get back to going to the beach.


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