Every time I return, I look for signs that things are still the same. On this trip the ponies were still grazing on Assateague Island, the marsh mallows were bursting with color, the snowy egrets were hunched in the trees, and the seagulls--the seagulls--were still hoping for a free meal.
And of course the crape myrtles were in bloom everywhere,
and vacationers were still hanging out on their decks overlooking the bay.
But on this trip the bridge had changed. I had known that a new bridge was in the works for years and under construction this year, but to see it and travel on it was altogether different. By entering the island onto Maddox Avenue, you no longer get the same feel of the old fishing village that Chincoteague once was; rather, you enter on the beach road, the kind of road you might find in any resort town in Virginia or North Carolina.
So it wasn't the same. Chincoteague had changed once again. And while we'd like some things in life to stay the same. . .
they don't.
The Kite Koop moves, Etta's Channel Side Restaurant is no longer run by Etta, and the condo next door is for sale. The trees die off, the dunes disappear, and the coastline shifts.
And the people we love come and go.
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