Family vacation. Those two words in that order hold a mixture of rest and terror when they are put side by side. Family holds its own various meanings, and vacation does as well. Sometimes they are such opposite ideas. Family is both wonderful and awful. There are awkward interactions and conversations, great memories and painful ones that are quickly brought to mind, and weird aunts and uncles who have always had that unmistakeable smell that is unique to only them. Vacations have feelings of rest, peace, getting away, sleep, warm sun on your skin and playfulness. Put Family and Vacation together and what you get is a birthday cake made of moldy bread. It’s exciting and ewww at the same time.

The birthday cake moments are those times when there is no time. The things that happen occur as if there are no clocks in the world. They are when you’re sitting in that seafood restaurant on the coast, eating shrimp and copious amounts of Alaskan King Crab legs, your hands covered in butter and joy, napkins all over the place. The moldy bread moments are the arguments, the frustrations, the I want to go here and But I want to go there! moments, when no amiable conclusion can be reached, and everyone ends up sitting in the hotel room with sunburns of anger all over their bodies, and there is no lotion strong enough to balm the emotions. I believe that it’s impossible to have a vacation without both aspects.

I have a few distinct memories from our Longbrake family vacations. As I write those words, the very first thing I think of is dad, me, and my sister Stephanie all sitting in our Chevy Econoline 500 van, in the driveway with the engine running as we anxiously await departure for a 24 hour drive to Jensen Beach, Florida, and mom is running back inside because she forgot something, running back out to the van, then running back in again because something’s still not right. I can feel it. Mom was always anxious like that. I bet dad planned for those moments, knowing that if he wanted to leave at 7 am he’d make sure we all got in the car around 6:45 because of the inevitable mom-running-back-in-the-house moments. She was a pro.

The other memory is one of the most glorious memories in my mind. Most of our vacations as kids involved a large conversion van and 20+ hours of driving. My mother, in all of her brilliance, was very imaginative in the things she thought of to help occupy me and my sister on those long summer drives. She created what she called Fun Boxes, and though they had a simple title, they were filled with depth and excitement for me as a 6 year old boy. Fun Boxes were large, Rubbermade bins in which she put coloring books, audio tapes, card games, candy like it was Halloween, but Halloween on crack cocaine, and a mixture of Oooo I wonder what’s inside this year! sort of things. And the thing was, they weren’t items just to keep us occupied for the trip. They were items in which mom and dad could participate with us in the fun. Dad usually drove the long hours, for which I am incredibly grateful for now as a 25 year old. Mom would often sit with us in the back and play with us, coloring in our books or playing our favorite Old Maid or Go Fish card games.

I also remember dad always, always, always being willing to stop whenever we needed to stop. One vacation to North Carolina I conveniently got a bladder infection, the bane of every road trip’s existence. But dad never complained once, but continually reassured me that we could stop every time I needed to go, no matter what. I probably had to stop 2 or 3 times per hour at some points, and dad must have been frustrated in his mind, but he didn’t let it show, which has impacted me deeply to this day.

Family vacations are never what they are anticipated to be, and often they are so much more than they are anticipated to be. What’s going to happen? Where will we go? What kind of food will we eat? What fish will we catch? Will the beach be crowded? Will it be awesome? Yes. And no. But is it worth it? Yes. It always is.