In the summer of 2012, my fifteen-year-old daughter, Mia, pleaded with me to take her on an adventure to Montauk Point. Having spent her entire life on the opposite side of Long Island, neither of us had ever ventured to what many call “The End.” We had come close during some camping trips with the Girl Scouts, but we had never experienced the beauty of the easternmost point, complete with its charming lighthouse and intriguing museum. It felt like a perfect opportunity waiting to happen.
We made an exciting day of our trip, starting off with a delightful breakfast. Despite getting caught in a torrential downpour, we eventually arrived at our destination just as the skies began to clear. We reveled in climbing the lighthouse, exploring the museum, snapping countless photos, relaxing on the beach, and wandering around the picturesque surroundings. It quickly became a place of cherished memories, and we promised to return for the holiday lighting that takes place the weekend after Thanksgiving.
That Thanksgiving was particularly special. My eldest daughter, Sophie, was returning home from college for the weekend, bringing her girlfriend, who would soon become her fiancée. It marked the first holiday Tara would spend with our family of six.
I had planned an exciting itinerary for the weekend. The older girls would entertain my three-year-old, Lily, while I prepared our Thanksgiving feast. They would also spend time playing games with Mia and my twelve-year-old son, Jack. We would enjoy a festive dinner with my in-laws and cap the night off with a movie. The next day was dedicated to Montauk—just me and the girls. Saturday would be reserved for decorating the Christmas tree, filled with laughter and hot cocoa as we reminisced about our favorite ornaments.
While most of the weekend unfolded as planned, our trip to Montauk didn’t quite go as I had hoped. The two-and-a-half-hour drive felt even shorter due to the late arrival for the lighting, making our visit feel rushed. With everyone needing bathroom breaks and snacks along the way, the pressure to arrive on time grew. When we finally reached Montauk, the temperature had dipped to frigid levels, and a biting wind greeted us. Though we found a good spot to witness the lighting and even caught a glimpse of Santa, we didn’t linger for long. In the dark, I got a bit turned around trying to locate the car while Lily fussed about being cold and scared.
The car ride home was an adventure in itself. Lily, who had a cold and some sensory sensitivities, insisted that I was the only one allowed to wipe her nose. Every few seconds, I heard from the backseat, “You g’ wipe my nose?” I tried to explain that I was driving, and she needed one of the older girls to help, but my reasoning fell on deaf ears. “You g’ wipe my nose,” she repeated ad nauseam, with her solution being that I could just walk us home instead of driving. After an hour of amusing yet exhausting negotiations, she finally let one of the older girls help her. After that, it turned into a game of “Here, catch!” as she tossed her used tissues toward the front seat, often hitting me in the back of the head. Not the relaxing drive I had envisioned!
After the weekend, I checked in with Sophie over the phone to see how she and Tara enjoyed their time with us. I was thrilled to hear they had a wonderful experience. Curious about Tara’s favorite moment, I was taken aback by her response.
“It was the trip to Montauk,” she said.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “The long drive, the brief visit, the freezing cold, and Lily’s antics?”
“It was magical,” Sophie replied. She recalled the joy of us belting out Christmas songs during the drive, the stunning clarity of the moonlit night, arriving just in time for the lighthouse to light up, and yes, even Lily’s hilarious behavior added to the charm of the evening.
As mothers, we often feel it’s our responsibility to create holiday magic. My Montauk experience taught me that the real magic is already there, thriving in the hearts and minds of our children—and their significant others. All we have to do is invest our time and be open to the joy that unfolds.
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Summary:
In this heartwarming recount of a family trip to Montauk, the author navigates the ups and downs of holiday planning, revealing that the true essence of family moments often lies in the unexpected. Despite a less-than-ideal trip, the memories created turned out to be cherished by all, proving that magic happens in the smallest moments.