The long drive home.
Every summer began the same way: a car packed to the roof, a family dog wedged between suitcases, and a fourteen-hour drive from Toronto to New Brunswick. It was chaotic, cramped, and some of the best memories of our lives.
The Road Trip
Kids packed in the car, a makeshift TV rigged up by my tech-wizard father, and the family dog cuddled into our laps. The back seat was elbow wars, shared headphones, and the endless Are we there yet? At night we'd smuggle the dog into hotels in a duffel bag - she never made a sound. She knew the drill.
"While the road trip was chaotic, the destination was always worth it."
The Good Days
Long days on the beach, rain or shine. Barefoot runs through neighbours' backyards, bonfires where the smoke followed you no matter where you sat, and singalongs that went late into the mosquito hours. Boat trips to the islands with sandwiches that tasted better for being sandy - and that heavy-limbed, salt-crusted tired that made a hammock the easiest place in the world to fall asleep.
Full Circle
Thirty years later, my husband and I are raising our own family in Toronto - and pointing the car east for another Maritime summer, snack crumbs and all. Maritime Summers exists because those moments matter: the long drives, the sandy sandwiches, the bonfire smoke in your hair, and the feeling that the Maritimes always call you back.