Living by the ocean was both a gift and a curse. The view was always spectacular and the summers like living in a wonderland. However, the storms were as treacherous as the views splendid. I remember many a winter night snuggled on the floor in front of the fire in fear of loosing the electricity and consequently the heat due to the n'oreaster raging outside our windows. During those days Dad worked for Amtrak on the Washington run. He would be gone two to three days at a time so Mum was always the fearless one in charge. She never showed her fears. It was not until I was an adult that I learned she was afraid of storms, especially thunderstorms. I remember the infrequent times when Dad would be home during one of those storms and he would race around collecting rain gear, rubber boots, heavy ropes and flashlights. It would be a frenzied time compared to our solo storm experiences.
I look back on my mother's life as a young Mum living in a small beach community away from all of her family with such respect and admiration. Only an hour away from her old stomping grounds back then was no different than being a world away. I often wonder how she did all she did being 37 when her first child was born and then to have a second child just 18 months later. Raising them both in that little house with the breathtaking views. What a story!
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