Rockport

As I mentioned yesterday, we just returned from the coast, which is a 2.5 hour trip for us.

We had been planning a trip to the Texas coast for a month, and with the passing of each day, excitement built and overflowed like soda spewing out of a bottle. The night before we left, bags were packed and repacked, and the house was cleaned till it shone like a newly minted penny.

The Dopplar radar website predicted rain on the coast, but we weren't too concerned; as many people know, Texas weather is unpredictable and can change in a few minutes. Just to be safe, we checked Dopplar before heading out, and to our disappointment, the ran chances had increased. John wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet. "I'll call the hotel, maybe the website stats aren't current."

"Oh sure, ya'll come on," the front desk clerk chirped happily. "We're predicted to have rain, but the sun is shining and there's not a cloud in the sky."

I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off, grabbing last minute essentials (yep, grabbed the sunscreen)and barking orders to my children like a Whippet on steroids. Finally, we were off, the only thing missing from the overstuffed truck was "Grannie Clampett" perched on the roof, and the twangy sound of banjos resonating in out ears. (In other words we packed everything but the kitchen sink.)

The road to the coast seemed endless, and thankfully the kids slept most of the way. Gentle rolling hills were replaced by marshes and sea grass the closer we got to the beach; however, white clouds and sunshine were also replaced by clouds darker than a rustler's heart. Despite the threatening clouds, I let my giddiness overcome me, rolled down my window, and hung my head out like a dog, sucking in the sweet, salty air. I can't explain it, but the sea and the hills are alluring to me; they offer comfort like an old familiar friend. Anyway, back to what I was saying.. .

As we pulled into the small ocean side town of Rockport--where we were staying--, the heavens let loose their heavy load, and we were hit with blinding rain, and near hurricane force winds. "Ya'll come on, the sun is shining," John sneered, mimicking the desk clerk. "Hmph. Bet it was raining then," he grumbled. Rockport is like a second home to us, so luckily we knew our way around and soon came to our hotel.

Moments later, drenched like rats, we made it into the hotel room. "It could be worse, we could have not made it at all," I said, always the optomist. As the wind howled outside and the rain slammed against the window, the four of us were content to watch old movies and snack on popcorn I had brought along.

Before too long, the rain stopped as abruptly as it started, and the sun peeped from behind the clouds. We took a walk on the Rockport Beach, which has been classified as a Blue Wave Beach by the federal government, which means it's one of the cleanest beachs in the United States.

We had supper at the Big Fisherman. A former airplane hanger, this local eatery is legendary for their scrumptous seafood, friendly service, and VERY reasonable prices. How reasonable? I had the fish special, which consisted of a large cup of chicken noodle soup, SEVEN large fresh fish portions, a half cup of coleslaw, a HUGE baked potato with all the trimmings, and tea; the cost was $5.95, and I couldn't finish what was on my plate.

Our tummies bloated from the wonderful meal, we waddled to the truck and went to the local Starbucks. Of course, in classic Debbie style, something had to happen.

I don't know if it was the mouth-watering fragrance off freshly ground coffee, or he got his second wind, but the minute we walked into Starbucks, Robert went crazy. Like a load from a sawed-off shotgun, Robert raced around the coffee shop, yelling happily. Before I could stop him, he raced behind the counter. I was stopped by an indignant staff member who said, "Madam, you can't simply help yourself to the coffee back her; you have to pay first."

I gave the model-thin counter person a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look, and counted to ten before replying.
"I have no intentions of stealing coffee, but I do want to grab the child trying to work your drive-thru window." I replied cooly. I grabbed Robert, apologized for the trouble, ordered a banana-coconut frappachino, and joined John and Seth on the balcony to watch the sun set.

Our hotel room faced the water, and the next morning Seth and I walked out on a pier that stretched a half mile into the ocean. As the tangy ocean breeze gently caressed my cheeks, I became immersed in my thoughts as I stared out at the choppy, pea-green ocean. The ocean whispered tales of explorers sailing on her waves hundreds of years ago; the very same waters I was staring out into now. I felt myself getting emotional as I thought of the brave souls, sailing on the ocean for months. Then suddenly, the lookout in the crows' nest spots land, precious land! "Land ho!" he cries, scrambling down from his perch. "Land ho!"

The cry reverberates throughout the ship as the remaining crew members celebrate. At last their journey is over.

My journey ended that day too. Even as I stood on the pier, storm clouds were moving swiftly toward Rockport. We learned the tiny city had received 11 inches of rain in two days, and were going to get more.

We packed and headed back home, along with other vacationers. My heart grew heavy as I turned and watched Rockport grow smaller as we drove further away. I plan to return at the end of the month, and I know the town will still be there, waiting to share more of its secrets.