Christmas Time in Ocean City
The months before Christmas had been very busy at the office. There had been no time for a breather for Peter. Somedays he spent the whole day in Court and then would have to go to Night Court as well. Sometimes he would take me along with him in the evenings. Waiting to have a client produced could be very long and tedious indeed. This way we could sit together companionably.
For months he had spoken about going away somewhere where no one was around, somewhere he could unwind. He finally came up with Ocean City. It was not an arduous drive and no one would go to a beach resort in winter. He pored over the computer every evening for weeks and finally chose a charming little hotel for us to stay in. It was warm and welcoming. On the computer, he saw that the room was spacious and faced the ocean. It had a little terrace and a kitchenette with a fridge, in case we got hungry or thirsty in the middle of the
night.
We felt a sense of excitement as we drove towards our destination. We played our favourite travel classical music, The Four Seasons. We were encapsulated in our own perfect world as we sped onwards. As we got closer to Ocean City, we saw lighthouses and homes with widow’s walks. A widow’s walk is a walk on top of the house for the lady of the house to observe the comings and goings of the ships that came and went in days gone by.
Peter was tired from all the driving. I massaged his neck and shoulders as we drove. He did not want to stop and rest. We opened the car windows to smell the ocean and to hear the waves crash onto the shore, over and over again. At times, we sang with gusto as we drove. Our voices drifted out of the open windows to join the waves. We felt heady from it all!
Finally we arrived at our destination. We parked the car and checked in. What a contrast to the winter scenario outside and the lobby of the hotel. The lobby was filled with exotic birds and tropical trees. For a moment, we forgot it was winter outside. Where were we? In the South Seas? We looked around us, in pleasant surprise.
Our room was lovely, just like it was described on their website. We headed to the terrace overlooking the ocean. The cold winter winds enveloped us and the sound of the waves rising and ebbing soothed us. We stood there for a long while gazing at the ocean. We drew close together for warmth until we began to shiver. Reluctantly, we went back inside, but we did not close the terrace door. The sound of the waves enchanted us.
We felt fatigued from the drive to Ocean City. Intending to relax, we pulled down the counterpane and lay down on the bed with our clothes on. It was so calming to listen to the ocean from that quiet room. We felt as if we were in another world. With our eyes closed, we listened to that soothing sound and soon we fell asleep. We woke up in the middle of the night, chilled. The terrace door was still open. The waves still crashed towards the shore. I rose from bed and walked out to the terrace, hugging myself against the cold night air. The wind enveloped me. The ocean was dark. The sky was scattered with diamond-like stars that reflected magically onto the ocean. I felt one with nature. From inside the room, Peter sleepily called, ‘’Stella, close that door and come back to bed.’’ Reluctantly, I turned back, but the sound of the ocean was ever so soothing. We changed into night clothes and prepared for bed. Once more we cuddled together to keep ourselves warm. We slept deeply until morning, feeling invigorated. We woke up to the sound of the seagulls hovering over the ocean, fishing for their morning meal. What a pleasant difference from the morning sounds at home.
After breakfast, Peter and I bundled up warmly and walked on the beach for quite a long time. As we walked, we made up stories of the wives and lovers of days long gone. They who stood on the widow’s walks of their homes, bidding goodbye to their husbands, as they watched the ships sail away for months on end, or the wives that looked out on the horizon yearning for the ship that would bring their men home from the long journeys they had taken. We imagined the fishermen who returned with boats loaded with fresh fish. The women would run towards the boats to welcome them home. On and on, we would spin our imagined tales. It would be me mostly me who would spin, and Peter, chuckling, saying, ‘’Where do you come up with all this imagination?’’
Finally, we turned back towards the hotel. After a warm drink of coffee, we decided to drive around the town. It was a quaint and quiet little town in winter without the summer crowds. Most of the habitants were inside their homes celebrating Christmas with their families. Since it was not the tourist season, most of the eateries and restaurants were closed. We asked a local where we could get a decent meal. He sent us to an eatery with the most amazing crab cakes. They tasted like nothing we had ever tasted before. The crab cakes were so fresh and delicious, they felt like the crabs would jump out of the plate at any second! They were absolutely delicious. As we commented on that, another couple at a nearby table started to chat with us. They suggested another restaurant. We decided to go there they next day.
It had been a lovely relaxing day. The long walks and the fresh air were conducive to a deep peaceful sleep night. Once more we left the terrace door open, just a crack. We did not draw the curtains. We looked out at the black velvet sky studded with shimmering stars dancing across its majestic expanse. We listened to the lulling sound of the waves. We fell into another night of peaceful sleep and woke up
rejuvenated. Once more we woke up to the sound of the seagulls hovering over the ocean, trying to catch their breakfast.
We whiled our holiday away aimlessly. Nothing was planned. It certainly was not the most exciting little trip, but it was the most relaxing. We walked on the beach, we drove around to see the sights, we did what the spirit moved us to do. By the end of that trip, every inch of our bodies felt at ease.
When I look back on that time, I find myself smiling. It was the perfect trip. But every one of our trips was special. I suppose it is not where you go or what you do, but who you are with that counts.