August 2004

James Ehrmann • Family Vacation to Florida

For the second time in as many years, my family and I trekked down to a condominium in Siesta Key, Florida, to spend a week of our summer. We’re traditionally very close-knit, so our vacations aren’t necessarily defined by bonding with each other. Rather, they’re a time for all of us to forget how old we are and just let loose.

My dad, brother, and I spent most of our days lying on the beach (to say we were ‘tanning’ would insult our masculinity), much to the utter disappointment of our sun-conscious mother. Applying the appropriate amount of sunscreen becomes a ritual comparable only to trying to entice a two-year-old to remain still for an entire opera. "Did you put some on your ears and nose?" my mom asks my brother, Tim. "Yeah," Tim replies, but he’s lying, and just for good measure, my mom lathers some more SPF 30 on his face.

I manage to escape with no sunscreen on my entire body, but pay for the daring feat later when my chest breaks out in hives. We always joked that if there were an SPF 356, my mom would religiously encourage us bathe in it before going outdoors.

It was on this trip to Florida that we realized that this may be our last family vacation, at least while Tim and I are both in school. To think that the next time I walk down a beach with my family, I may be joined by a wife, and, dare I say, children, is utterly terrifying. I thought about that one night while gazing off into the Gulf, wishing the waves would calm my confusions. I’ve completed a year of college, and in less than six months I’ll be 20--my very existence as a teenager will be gone!

For soothing measures, I tell myself that I’m just going through a mid-life crisis, but that train of thought derails when I consider its ramifications: dying at the age of 40.

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