Best Worst Day Ever

I was ten. My mom and I were sharing a vacation rental with her best childhood friend, on Long Beach, Long Island, about an hour’s train ride from Manhattan.

Mom’s friend had a daughter, Linda, the same age as me. The vacation house was on a canal, what they called the “soft side” of the sandbar that was Long Beach. You could paddle the canal out into the ocean. There was a family living next door, not in a rental but in their own pretty fancy house. They had a daughter too, Sophia, also ten.

And a boat. Not just a boat, a cruiser with cabins for sleeping and everything. Modern and gleaming. Linda and Sophia soon became friends. I was not much welcome in their play. ?

One day it was announced that Sophia’s family was going to go out on the cruiser. Would Linda like to come for a day on the ocean? And so it was arranged. ?

I was pretty envious. My mom could see that I was moping, looking across the gap toward the big boat, from the rickety dock of our place.

She came to console me. She suggested maybe we could do something together. There was an amusement park not too far down the beach with a ferris wheel, roller coaster, cotton candy, and carnival prizes.

I said yes, but I wanted to wait until the cruiser pulled out first. For some reason, it was important to me that I actually see them pull out of their slip and down the canal. I guess I felt that would make my envy and pain even more complete.

A while later, my mom came down to the dock again and asked, was I ready to go? Nope. I had to see the boat leave. She said that we didn’t know when they intended to leave, so it could be a while. I said I needed to see them leave.

At lunchtime she came down to my moping spot, with a sandwich and a juice. She said, we should go or else we wouldn’t have enough time at the park.

I said, not yet, I had to see them leave. ?

That went on till afternoon. The boat never moved. Mom came down and said it was too late to go today. Maybe we could go another day.

Turned out the they never did leave. I don’t even know if they ever intended too. What I do know is that I wasted the whole day moping on the dock trying to concretize my hurt feelings. I traded a day with my mom at the amusement park for feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in my misery.

Why would that be the best worst day ever? It was actually the worst worst day ever. But I’ve never forgotten that lesson, and though I can still sometimes experience the pull of self-pity whenever I feel left out, or hurt, or slighted, when I do, I remember that still-docked cruiser, and what I learned.?

So I figure if you weigh the short-term pain against that bit of longer-term wisdom, it really was the one of the best worst days ever.