The drive from Massachusetts always felt long, but the moment we hit the ferry in Connecticut, I knew we were close to Aunt Betty's house on Long Island, and my excitement would bubble over. The salty air, the gentle rocking of the boat, and the anticipation of seeing everyone made that ferry ride feel like the real start of summer.
Aunt Betty had this amazing, sprawling yard, a perfect playground for me and my cousins. We'd spend hours out there, inventing games, playing softball, climbing trees, and just being kids. And the food! Oh, the food was always incredible. Her kitchen was the heart of the house, always filled with delicious smells and the laughter of the family. Every meal was a feast, made even better by being surrounded by everyone I cherished.
But what I appreciated the most were the hours spent in the garage, watching her husband Uncle Bill work his magic on cars. He taught me so much about engines, about the satisfaction of taking something apart and putting it back together, better than before. I remember distinctly the orange VW Thing that sat in the corner for a while, a project car that eventually became a fun, quirky part of our family's history. It was more than just learning about cars; it was about learning patience, problem-solving, and the joy of working with your hands. Those visits were pure magic—a perfect blend of family, food, and fascinating lessons.
Goodbye, Aunt Betty!
