Summer Paradise

In the summer of 1998 when I had just turned 9 years old, my Aunt Julie got married. It was now

a ritual that every July I would visit Naples, Florida for each summer break. Although I was very excited

about my favorite aunt getting married, I could never imagine how that summer would be the most

memorable event of my childhood. When I jumped out of the car and saw all of my families smiling

faces I felt like I was home. When I stepped into my Aunt's house I felt a breeze of warmth and security.

Her home was flooded with fancy dÐ"©cor and each room was a different shade of color. It reminded me

of Disney World because everywhere I would turn there would be something appealing to look at. I

still remember thinking at the time that it was the most glamorous house I've ever been in.

I took a look at the room I was staying in and I felt overwhelmed with happiness. It was light

yellow with painted sea shells that filled the border of the walls. There were books of every sorts and a

palm tree lamp that stood on the nightstand. Right outside the window I could hear the roaring of the

waves splashing against the shore. I opened it half way so I could smell the ocean breeze and feel the

sunlight hit on the spotless tile. I knew at that moment I wanted to spend every waking minute on that

beach. I was also very excited we had a few days here before the wedding.

I felt like the days last for what seemed endless. I spent countless mornings on the beach

collecting sea shells, and afternoons on my Aunt's thirty foot cabin boat. Her boat was astonishing and

squeaky clean just like her home. We went fishing, tubing, and swam in the ocean many times. I could

still taste the salt water and feel the beaming sun against my shoulders. Even though most of the time I

went back to the house with burnt cheeks I never seemed to care. I usually got too caught up having fun

that I forgot about putting on sunscreen. It left my cheeks red and my shoulders were always hurting

from the burn, but I loved every minute of it.

We went back each summer break for nearly three weeks until I was fourteen. Then in 2003 we

stopped going because my family was too busy to take off of work. I was devastated because I knew that

summer was going to be different. The memories I knew as a child had eventually faded, but a part of

me still reminisced about those unforgettable summers.

So last summer I decided to take a family trip to Naples, Florida once again. I called my Aunt and

told her we were coming into town, she too was just as happy as I

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