pretty things live here.
The place where the floors aren’t level, where the screen doors have slammed the same way they have since I was a kid. The place that if you’re showering and hear a toilet flush it’s going to be one of two things 1. scalding hot water or 2. ice cube water which is a 50/50 chance you are willing to take.
The place where the train comes through at 10PM, 12AM, and 2AM at night blaring it’s horn three times consecutively across the bay. It’s loud reminder brings you to a coherent thought, comfort you, and lulls you back to sleep.
My family has been going to Pine Acres since my dad was a little man. Thankfully the tradition has continued since then..This place is my childhood and holds so many memories. Every year I leave in tears and every year I am reminded of how special this place is.
Ian (my youngest brother) and I used to ride bikes at our house on the gravel driveway and mimic the way it sounded when we’d pull in to Pine Acres bright and early. The slow crush of gravel and smell of northern pine holds a big place in my heart. It may sound crazy but Nicholas (my second oldest brother) said it perfectly.. “Our parents didn’t realize the impact this had on us as kids”.. & he is so right.
This year Michael was able to join our crazy crew to Pine Acres and I was so happy to have him there. It was another crazy week full of laughter and jokes that will be told for the years to come. I am so blessed to have such an amazing family to bounce memories off of. I’m not sure what I would do without them.