The Beach House

Our family beach house is more than just a house—it’s a legacy. Built by our grandfather in the late 1960s, it stands as a testament to his hard work, resilience, and love for his family. A WWII veteran, he returned home to North Carolina and built a life for himself, running his own gas station and wrecker service for over 30 years. But amidst his long hours of labor, he dreamed of a place where his family could gather, relax, and create lasting memories. That dream became our beach house.

The house was a gift for our grandmother, a woman we never had the chance to know, as she passed away before we could ever meet her. Yet, we see her in the small, thoughtful details throughout the home—the carefully chosen tiles in the bathrooms, the sturdy cabinets in the kitchen (which our aunt, unfortunately, replaced), some of the artwork that is still in the original places where she hung it. These touches are a reminder of her presence, a glimpse into the life she would have built within these walls.

For us, the beach house has always been home. As military children, we moved from place to place, never settling in one location for too long. But no matter where we were stationed, we always knew that summer meant returning to the beach house. It was our constant, our anchor. Even without air conditioning, the ocean breeze slipping through the open windows was all we needed to stay comfortable. No other beach, no other house, could ever compare. Mind you today it has air conditioning.

Our fondest childhood memories are rooted in the sand, the surf, and the warmth of family gathered in this cherished place. And now, after all these years, we have inherited this home. It is our turn to preserve its history, to honor our grandfather’s craftsmanship and our grandmother’s quiet presence. It is now the place where we gather once more—not just to reminisce, but to build new memories while holding onto the old. Watching my nieces play in the sand and surf as they fall in love with the beach just as we did. Watching them beg to go to the beach house is a feeling like none other. It brings an overwhelming sense of happiness to me.

This beach house is more than wood and nails; it is the heart of our family. A place of laughter, of love, and of legacy. And as we step into this new chapter, we do so with gratitude, knowing that every wave that crashes onto the shore is another reminder that we are home.

One of my goals for this home is to leave it for the next generation to enjoy.

If this house could talk... ohhhh the stories it could tell on the living and the deceased