Moonstone Beach Motel (Top and Bottom)
The beach is a beautiful place. Lucky for me, my grandparents take me and my cousin on Spring Break every year. In April, we drive down to Ocean Shores with our dog, Ali, and stay at the Moonstone Beach Motel. Thinking about it brings back the memories of freezing waves, grass as high as your shoulder, and sand wet from the tides. Every year is a torturous wait until we return.
The whole drive down to the beach, Brenda and I manage to keep up an endless chatter about the sights we see every time we go. What’s new, what’s still there, and what’s gone. While the chatter does sometimes turn to bickering, neither of us can deny our excitement to finally get there. We’ve been waiting since we left last year to come back again. In some ways, the beach is more a home to us than our real one. We always stay in the same cabin in our favorite motel. I can only remember two times when we haven’t stayed at Moonstone Beach Motel. Once when we stayed in my grandparent’s RV and the other time when we stayed at Moclips Motel.
As soon as the Durango is parked, Brenda and I dash out and open the hatch to let Ali out and start unpacking. First comes out the luggage, then food, and our electronics or toys last. Brenda and I share the smaller bedroom and my grandpa plugs in the small TV so that we can watch movies when we’re bored or can’t go outside. The minute everything is inside, Brenda and I start to beg to go on the beach. But, like every year, Grammy and Grandpa say they’re too tired from the drive, and we’ll go first thing in the morning after breakfast.
Anxious for morning, both of us stay up late talking in our bed about what we’re going to do first in the morning. It takes several hours until we’re tired enough to sleep, but we manage. As soon as we wake up, both of us grab our clothes from the dresser and race to the bathroom. Winner gets to change first. When we both have our clothes and swimsuits on, we eat breakfast as fast as we can and wait for our grandparents to get ready and take the dog. At last, we leave for the waves and sand. We run screaming and laughing onto the beach and then throw ourselves onto the sand. This is what we’ve been waiting for.
For the next three days, we play in the sand, hide behind enormous driftwood logs, attempt to catch hypothermia in the water, and creep around in the grass behind our motel. Of course, Grammy worries about us every minute unless we’re a foot in front of her, but she trusts us. Exhausted after three days of non-stop play, we sluggishly pack up the Durango and get ready to leave. Before we get in the car, we wave goodbye to the motel until next year and take one last whiff of salty ocean air.
Waiting an entire year to visit my favorite place again seems like the worst possible torture I could imagine. But for the three days that I am there; it’s pure bliss. There’s nothing better than spending time with loved ones in a familiar place. And I never want it to end.
The whole drive down to the beach, Brenda and I manage to keep up an endless chatter about the sights we see every time we go. What’s new, what’s still there, and what’s gone. While the chatter does sometimes turn to bickering, neither of us can deny our excitement to finally get there. We’ve been waiting since we left last year to come back again. In some ways, the beach is more a home to us than our real one. We always stay in the same cabin in our favorite motel. I can only remember two times when we haven’t stayed at Moonstone Beach Motel. Once when we stayed in my grandparent’s RV and the other time when we stayed at Moclips Motel.
As soon as the Durango is parked, Brenda and I dash out and open the hatch to let Ali out and start unpacking. First comes out the luggage, then food, and our electronics or toys last. Brenda and I share the smaller bedroom and my grandpa plugs in the small TV so that we can watch movies when we’re bored or can’t go outside. The minute everything is inside, Brenda and I start to beg to go on the beach. But, like every year, Grammy and Grandpa say they’re too tired from the drive, and we’ll go first thing in the morning after breakfast.
Anxious for morning, both of us stay up late talking in our bed about what we’re going to do first in the morning. It takes several hours until we’re tired enough to sleep, but we manage. As soon as we wake up, both of us grab our clothes from the dresser and race to the bathroom. Winner gets to change first. When we both have our clothes and swimsuits on, we eat breakfast as fast as we can and wait for our grandparents to get ready and take the dog. At last, we leave for the waves and sand. We run screaming and laughing onto the beach and then throw ourselves onto the sand. This is what we’ve been waiting for.
For the next three days, we play in the sand, hide behind enormous driftwood logs, attempt to catch hypothermia in the water, and creep around in the grass behind our motel. Of course, Grammy worries about us every minute unless we’re a foot in front of her, but she trusts us. Exhausted after three days of non-stop play, we sluggishly pack up the Durango and get ready to leave. Before we get in the car, we wave goodbye to the motel until next year and take one last whiff of salty ocean air.
Waiting an entire year to visit my favorite place again seems like the worst possible torture I could imagine. But for the three days that I am there; it’s pure bliss. There’s nothing better than spending time with loved ones in a familiar place. And I never want it to end.
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