Cape Cod during the second week of September turns into a very special place. It sheds its tourist glitter into the ocean and becomes almost mystical. Breathtaking sunsets, never the same. Wind and sun go through your body giving you a release from the trivial worries.

The places are almost empty but still alive. A few natives are super friendly, they relax in their chairs. They are glad to see you coming in, they chat and smile. The birds are the rulers now. The black crows are walking along the streets, sitting on poles and back yards getting sunbaths.
Our favorite beach on the lake is empty, we feel that we are the masters of the land and we can do whenever we want. When my son wakes up his first question is:"Where are we going today?" He got into the spirit of vacation very fast. We eat seafood, which is delicious and readily available, or doing barbecue on the backyard.

There are also old people. As we are eating the breakfast they start migration to the ocean. There are couples, small groups of women sharing the stories, that you can hear if you want to. The rush hour here is 6.30 to 7 pm, the sunset time. Everybody is on the ocean edge observing how the sun and clouds are painting a new beautiful composition every evening that includes the smells of the ocean and sound of the waves. Around Wednesday the change is happening, one crowd is leaving and next hasn't came yet. On Thursday and Friday nights more and more cars parked at the hotels and rental houses. We left on the beautiful Saturday morning saying goodbuy and thank you. Back to civilization. I wish we cold stay a few days more.

Life often comes between me and my blogging. I have two unfinished posts, and now when I am looking at them I am not sure what I wanted to say. One was about how my boss for some reason decided that my vacation wasn't too important, and I could switch it. But now after two weeks it all seems water under the bridge. The other post was about our vacation but I have a bit different feelings about it now. But I think I want to write it down anyway. So I am going to start over...

Every time after I talk to my mom I feel horrified. Will my son talk to me that way? Will I be as inflexible as her? The barrier between different generations seems so high almost impossible to overcome. I am often wondering, how come though she raised me we don't have much in common. She is doing so much for us, but I have a very long way to go to learn to appreciate it, without saying: "This is great but..." There is always a but, and it shouldn't be there. I am trying to accept my mom as she is, but .... here it is again. That is very irritating. How people do this? How do they reach each other through time and connect?