Goose Rocks Beach

Many years ago, my mother’s college roommate had her wedding at Goose Rocks Beach in Kennebunkport, Maine. In the years that followed, the quiet and rocky beach would become my parents summer home, and later mine.

When my brother announced that he and his girlfriend were coming home for the weekend, the question of what we would do came up.

“Maybe we could go to the North End for dinner,” my dad suggested.

“Or maybe,” my mom said thoughtfully. “We could go to Goose Rocks.”

My mother texted my brother to ask his preference, and the reply was instantaneous.

“I want to go to Goose Rocks,” he wrote.

And that was that.

Saturday morning found me filling the car with beach chairs and sunscreen. We sat threw the slews of beach traffic as we slowly made our way to Maine.

As soon as I could smell the salt water I cranked down the window and told my parents to turn off the A.C.

“Let’s take Ocean Drive,” I instructed my dad, and he obliged.

Ocean Drive is littered with sprawling mansions, and artisanal modern homes that border the ocean. It’s Kennebunkport’s display of opulent wealth. There’s only one crown jewel though, and it’s Walker’s Point.

Walker’s Point is the oceanfront home for former President George Bush.

Shielded by several guard towers, the imposing estate has one of the most magnificent ocean views in all of Kennebunkport. As we got out to take pictures, I recalled the time when we were boating near Walker’s Point and got ushered back by the Secret Service. They wore dark suits and sunglasses, and spoke in dull tones. I’d wondered at the time if working for the president was really so horrible.

Upon arriving at the beach, my mom’s eyes lit up with glee as she spotted our old summer house.

“There it is!” she squealed.

119 Kings Highway hasn’t changed in the eighteen years. The wooden shingles are faded, and the stones still crunch under your feet when you step on the walkway. Umbrellas and beach towels lined the porch deck.

“There must be renters,” my dad said sadly.

I gave him a quick smile and reached for my mom, squeezing her shoulder.

“I’ll take a picture for you guys.”

My feet pressed down in the patterned ridges of sand as I reached for my phone. After I had snapped my parents in front of their old home, we continued our trek down the beach.

The shoreline was capped with seaweed and a confection of shells. I had to bite back a grin when I saw my mom walking determinedly in a zigzag motion.

“She’s looking for a sand dollar,” I said, nudging my brother’s shoulder.

He chuckled. “Some things never change,” he told me.

We didn’t end up leaving the beach with a sand dollar that day but it was perfect all the same. White clouds topped the skyline like whipped cream. I dipped my toes in the salt water, feeling the tide push and pull around me. It was a special beach day.