Oak Island is the first beach I ever went to. From when I was in utero until I was 14 years old, my mom's family would rent the same beach-front house for one week each summer.
The week was all about spending time with family, playing board games and cards with cousins and aunts and uncles, swimming, taking long walks to the arcade at the pier, and playing putt-putt.
The smell of gasoline still sometimes reminds me of driving bumper boats.
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