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Dad's lounge chair now sits empty on the wrap-around corner porch, so close to the Atlantic you could hit the water with a good throw. On this trip the sea was as tame as a kitten. Gentle ripples lapped at the beach, instead of crashing onto the shore, flattening sand castles, and pulling everything into the surf from beach balls to cameras. Roaring waves reign in the winter, but in the summer, the giant slumbers.
The day we left, the beach was crowded. Families buried one another in the sand, teens walked hand in hand, seniors vied for prime spots under beach umbrellas, and fishermen reeled in good-sized bounty bound for the table.
Like a child, I felt sad to say goodbye, but it was time to bid the condo "ta-ta, for now." My mother's parting words rang in my ears as Spark lowered the last shutter, gradually closing out the aquamarine Atlantic and sky to match.
As usual, we left on the prettiest day. Isn't that always the way? Each day we were on the island, the mornings would beam sunny, but by noon the clouds would move in and the sky would open. Palm trees whipped in wind and rain came in sheets. No matter, there were favorite restaurants to visit, movies to see and great sales at the department stores.
We left for Florida at the end of that cruel week of 90-plus temperatures in Missouri. The thought of leaving hot to go to hotter didn't thrill either of us, but the condo needed some repairs and we'd set up a meeting with a handyman who said he could fix everything but air conditioners.
That's one area we wouldn't need help in, we said, knowing my parents had put a new central unit in a few years ago. It turned out we were blowing hot air - so was the air conditioner the evening we arrived. It was a long night prompting me to ask Spark, "So how did we stay cool as kids before we had air conditioning?" That led to a discussion on window fans, as we sat sweating under the blades of a ceiling fan.
The next morning, we called the air-conditioner company. They'd be out, but not if there was lightning. You don't want to be on a condo roof in the middle of a thunderstorm, the company owner said. The rain held off, and our savior, Dino, originally from Long Island, rode into the complex in his white van with his boss, who'd just had knee surgery and directed Dino's rooftop repair work with a walkie-talkie.
It turns out having beach property has its downside. Salt's great in a shaker, but along the shore, less is more. Salt eats its way through almost anything. Air-conditioner compressors only last five to seven years before they go kaput, the boss man said.
Fortunately, my parents didn't need a new compressor. Dino was a dynamo. Before we could croon "Volare" the condo was icy cold. That made for much better sleeping.
There was only one other annoyance while we were away, calling family in Missouri and hearing about the balmy temperatures - that, and seeing our grandchildren, were the only things that made leaving our home away from home the least bit appealing.
