Heating up

On these overheated days of summer - and I suffer - I wonder how it is I made it through my childhood in the Tropics.

The last time I was in Barbados, I remember standing in line to check in at the airport and the woman in front of me had on a long-sleeved polyester dress. It was stuck to her back and dripping wet. It was May.

I don't remember languishing in the heat when I was a little girl. I do remember running from our apartment, on the ground floor of a house on the beach, across the beach and right into the water.

I practically lived in the water, or so it seems. But we didn't live on the ocean the whole time, since even then, when it was just me and my mother, we were gypsies.

I have no fear of the ocean, but I do respect it. My mother once was caught up in an undertow, and the ocean, which flings nearly everything (eventually) back onto a beach, was flung back up onto the beach when she did not struggle.

The ocean always calls you back, when you've been away. Although there were lakes (big ones) in and around Michigan, it was never the same.

Even when I lived in an apartment on Beacon Hill, I frequently smelled the ocean on a breeze. Don't smell it here on Plum Island at all, which I think I've mentioned before.

The second year I lived here, I walked on the Refuge every day, even when it was snowing. All alone, I would do goofy things on the beach, like spinning like Mary Tyler Moore did in the beginning of her 70s TV show.

I also like mountains. I was drawn to Vancouver because it had both. If you ever get the chance, check out that city. It's big, but it's beautiful.