Boogie Boarding with my Father's Australian Mistress

It takes a lot for me to put things in perspective. Generally because it involves stopping for long enough to look at the big picture.

This summer I went on a road trip across Georgia while I was away from Colorado. In a week I went to visit my friend Michelle in Statesboro, to Savannah with her to have party party fun good times, and finally to Saint Simons Island to be apart of my Dad's family vacation.

Like the previous family vacation to Euro Disney World (when my dad and his family were living in Belgium) we brought along a family who I like to affectionately refer to as the "Dutch/British/Egyptians".

This family consists of five charming, hard to understand, blond haired, blue eyed, extremely fit ethnically Dutch citizens. They are the best friends of my Father, my Stepmother, my half brother and half sister. They all match up perfectly in age and gender, with the exception of the youngest Derick. He is incidentally the cutest six year old native French speaker that has ever lived.

So I arrive at the rental house on the island, which is way bigger and more over the top than I could have ever imagined. Four stories, rooftop dining area, elevator, two whirlpools, private beach access, four car garage, and seven bedrooms.

Now while this sort of thing may be fairly run of the mill for an international business executive and the co-owner of a popular world wide snack food corporation, it is not common place for a struggling college student that grew up with a single mother living in a two bedroom ranch house less than a mile away from the Columbus, GA municipal airport. It's a touch awkward for me to ask for a pair of flip flops to wear to the beach and be handed a pair of Prada peeptoe loafers.

So one morning after waking up on the 8,000 thread count sheets of the spare cot in the executive office on the fourth floor of the vacation home my step mom pokes her head in to tell me they're all going boogie boarding in about ten minutes.

I get up and get my things together and hobble down to the beach.

After a few hours of sitting in the water on a kid's boogie board next to my step mom and half sister, watching the Dutch children scream and fight with each other about sandcastles in French on the shore just a few feet ahead of us, and my father laying out in the sun talking with his fellow international executive friend, I realized how insane all of it was.

There I was, next to the woman my father left my mother for more than ten years ago when we were happy living in Australia. She was his secretary, and they ran off to Disneyland together in the states. I hated her, I drew pictures of her as a slug, as a monster, and she was the first person I ever called a bitch.

But she was floating next to me in her designer strapless belted swimsuit with her nine year old daughter next to her.

After a few runs to and from the shoreline I excused myself and went back to the extravagant rental house to nurse my sunburn.

A couple of hours later when everyone was done with lunch I said my goodbyes in my very best French, kissed everyone in the most European way I could muster, and headed back to highway 17.

Boogie Boarding with the woman my father cheated on my mother with put everything in a new perspective. We all have our guilt, and maybe inviting me to spend a weekend on the southern coast of Georgia relieves theirs a little.

But it doesn't help in my bitterness, and I think their efforts to make me apart of their extravagant life makes me even angrier than hanging me out to dry would make me.

I hope they know all they're doing is providing me material for my memoirs when I'm famous.