Joyless or Joyful

Travel plans for this weekend were canceled due to the weather forecast for the South. Disappointment all the way around. I love the beach any time of year.

My childhood is filled with memories of family trips to the beach. We’d pile into a pickup truck with a camper shell on the back—we being the kids. The exhaust fumes were awful, but nobody thought twice about it. My uncle had a pop-up camper, and we usually stayed at Ocean Lakes. There were at least ten of us crammed together.

One trip stands out in particular. My aunt lit a gas grill and lost her eyebrows, along with a good portion of her hair. The vacation continued like nothing happened. It was normal for something disastrous to occur on our trips.

That pop-up camper was basically a sardine can baking in the sun.

We always went to a local theme park called Magic Harbor. My fear of heights began on the Ferris wheel. My uncle thought it would be funny to sway the bucket we were riding in. I wasn’t tall enough for many of the rides, but that didn’t stop me. I convinced my cousin. I also convinced another uncle. We rode what I thought was a kid-friendly roller coaster. It was shaped like a worm that went through an apple. The safety bar barely fit over their knees. They were mad as fire when they got off. I, however, was thoroughly entertained.

One year, my mama, her boyfriend, my cousin, and I took a trip together. We somehow met a group of degenerates who smoked weed and rode wheelchairs down stairs. One day we rode hydro fighters—two seats back-to-back with pressurized water guns. For reasons still unknown, our ride got stuck in a constant swirling motion. When it finally stopped, we were so dizzy and sick we went back to the hotel and slept for hours.

We woke up thinking it was the next day. It wasn’t. That confusion lingered for days. We were land drunk with a hangover.

We visited every water park within driving distance. Ogle’s Waterpark in Pigeon Forge was a favorite. I rode every slide there. Rainbow Rapids in North Carolina was another. The slides were concrete with a thin glaze coating, and the water pressure was terrible. If you didn’t wear shorts over your swimsuit, you’d end up with concrete rash on your backside. If you got stuck in the slide, you waited. Eventually, another rider would come flying down and shove you to the finish line.

As a teenager, I was introduced to Sliding Rock in Brevard, North Carolina. That water had to be 40 degrees—in the summertime. Just a massive rock with water flowing over it. We traveled in large groups, and one day decided to pile on—at least ten people stacked together. One friend wore earplugs attached by red strings. When we hit the water and surfaced gasping for air, the strings had snapped and were dangling out of his ears. People panicked, thinking he was bleeding out of them.

Emerald Point in Greensboro was another favorite when I was younger. Years later, my mama and I took my kids there. Everything was fine until a turd surfaced in the wave pool. To this day, my oldest three want nothing to do with water parks.

I loved family vacations growing up. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to provide my oldest three with a complete family vacation experience, largely due to the spiteful actions of an ex-husband. My twenty-eight-year-old son and my eleven-year-old son, however, have gone on every vacation with me. Together, we’ve built core memories. We still vacation together yearly and as often as possible.

I’ve asked more than once for a big family vacation, but it’s never happened. Bridges were burned, and I didn’t strike the match. Broken relationships often come at the hands of adults who use children as pawns. Turds in the pool of life, if you will.

When families are shattered and you’re exhausted from extending olive branches, stop. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Break the branch, scoop the turd out of your life, and move on.

Sometimes peace comes not from reconciliation, but from removal. Some people don’t want resolution—they want leverage. And children should never be collateral damage in adult wars.