The last time I stayed at the Sea Colony towers in Bethany, MTV was new, boom boxes were large and ran on six DD batteries, Coppertone spf 8 was erring on the side of caution, and bangs were tall. And my older sister, Lara, was still with us.
Lara’s best friend was the second eldest of five girls, and I was friendly with the fourth in line. Lara practically lived at their home during the summer, a smaller version of Scarlett’s Tara, tucked in the woods near Clifton, Virginia. Their German-born artist mother had designed it herself, and she floated through it in gossamer dresses, breezing through the kitchen on the way to her studio to paint watercolors and oils, often of her five beloved daughters. The dad was rarely home, so the place seemed solely the domain of Susanne, Tatiana, Sasha, Raissa, Katia, and Alina.
Susanne (we called her Mutti, which is German for mom) had a penthouse at Sea Colony in Bethany, and one summer my dreams came true when they invited me to come along for a week. It must have been around 1983, which is where the endless summer will always live in my mind.
Katia and I played video games in the arcade, lugged the boom box to the beach, sparingly applied sun tan lotion so as not to jeopardize a dark tan (nobody called it sun block in those days – why would you want to block the sun??), watched the MTV countdown, and quietly stole sips of champagne under the indulgent eye of Mutti and the disapproving glances of my sister.
Now here I am on the beach with Sea Colony still standing like something out of a fuzzy dream about a quarter mile down the beach. The buildings don’t appear to have been renovated since they were built. I fantasize that if I were to wander down there, I’d see my sister, her shiny dark brown hair combed back, her sunglasses on, and her lips shimmering with thickly applied gloss. I am afraid that if I approach, it’ll all dissolve into the summer breeze. So I keep my distance, and I keep my sister alive and well in the summer of 1983.
My Corner of the Village 