Nostalgia

The driveway was long. Vegetation surrounding it on the left and right, even above; a living tunnel. The light at the end of the tunnel was only more driveway, this time out in the open. It was unpaved, save the oyster shells that cut at my summer feet. As we near the end of the driveway, the animals rush to greet us. An old Brittany spaniel investigates our arrival as a younger animal of the same breed barks and runs about.
The entrance to the house is covered with tropical vegetation. Young palms fan out in the summer sun. We brush the foliage away from our faces as we walk into the house. It is hot, but the floor feels cool on my bare feet. The smell of boiling shrimp permeates the air. The house has all the usual furnishings; sofas, tables, chairs, etc. It's the decoration that strikes me. One room is full of giraffes, wooden, slender, hand-crafted. The stairwell adorned with teapots from all over the world. Tribal masks hang on one wall. A mural beams from the floor of the sunroom, challenging my imagination. Photography throughout; the kind that makes you have to catch your breath again. Ornate, yet simple. Exotic, yet somehow so homey.
The screen door slams shut, signaling my arrival to the backyard. A large tree of some sort provided shade for most of the area, including a picnic table perfect for eating freshly boiled crab. Water. A swimming pool: the pinnacle of summer bliss, and this one even has a diving board. Thirty yards past the palm trees behind the pool lies the bay.
The house was called Pine Lodge and it was in Gulf Shores. My Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin lived there. I went back six years ago. There were no animals, no people. The house was void of its decorative eccentricities. The pool was brown.
Despite its current state, which may now be bayside condominiums, Pine Lodge remains in my memory as one of my favorite places in the world. The house was full of beautiful and interesting things. My fondest memories, though, are of the family gatherings that took place there. We would visit during the summers and catch bay crab and boil them. We would shoot fireworks off the pier. We listened to Jimmy Buffett. Our ENTIRE family would converge there after Christmas for a few days. I will never forget that place. I hold tightly to its memory, perhaps because I know that I will never again experience it. Sometimes, I just sit and think about it...