Topsail Beach: A Teacher's Paradise

As I sit in my classroom after a very long week of state testing, I’m exhausted. My room is hot, there’s trash everywhere, and the only thing on my mind is the salt water and soft sand of Topsail Beach, North Carolina.

Where is Topsail Beach? Or Surf City?

As you move closer to island time on North Carolina’s east coast, you enter Surf City. Nestled between Topsail Beach to the south and North Topsail Beach to the north, Surf City sits between Wilmington and Jacksonville. The town is filled with charm — three fishing piers, small museums, art galleries, local shops, and more good food than anyone should probably eat in one weekend. It’s the kind of place that feels slower in the best way possible.

Topsail Then and Now

If you’re around my age or older and have vacationed at Topsail for years, you probably remember the old swinging bridge — or as I like to call it, the longest waiting game ever.

As a kid, I vividly remember passing the Food Lion as we entered Surf City. That was the sign we were close. But if traffic was backed up, we all knew exactly who to blame: the swing bridge. Whenever a sailboat or large boat needed to pass through the Intracoastal Waterway, the bridge would rotate open, leaving cars sitting for what felt like forever.

Now, that old bridge has been replaced with a 65-foot high-rise bridge that allows boats to pass underneath without stopping traffic. Convenient? Absolutely. But part of me still misses the anticipation of waiting, knowing the beach was only minutes away.

What Brings me Back

In June of 2018, my grandma — the person who helped plan our yearly summer beach trips — passed away. Losing her changed me in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. I became angry, rebellious, and difficult. Looking back now, I realize a lot of that came from grief.

I think deep down I knew that our 2016 trip would probably be our last one with her. Her health declined over the next two years, and when she passed, it felt like I lost a piece of my childhood too. She was woven into every beach memory I have — cooking dinner, playing putt-putt, applying sunscreen, and simply being Grandma.

She always seemed happiest at Topsail. Happier sitting on a porch swing overlooking the sound after a warm June rainstorm than sitting in another doctor’s office back home in Wake County.

A month after she passed, we packed up for the beach anyway. It was a trip she was supposed to be on. My grandpa, her husband of more than 50 years, came with us like he always had. But this time felt different. There were no boat rides, no extra pep in his step, and honestly, he just wasn’t himself. Grief does that to people. Losing your person changes everything. That trip was hard. It’s where a lot of my anger first surfaced. And then, four years later, we lost my grandpa too.

So, what brings me back?

Despite the heartbreak attached to that place, the answer is simple: life felt better there. There were no bedtimes. Unlimited desserts thanks to my great aunt. Sleepovers with cousins. Endless fishing trips. Family dinners planned together after long beach days.

I hold onto those memories tightly. I hold onto the smell of the sound in the mornings when I’d step onto the back deck before everyone else woke up. I hold onto carrying what felt like a million pounds of chairs, towels, and coolers onto the beach. I hold onto the laughter, the routines, and the feeling that for one week every summer, everything was okay. Every coastal town has something that keeps people coming back — the food, the scenery, the traditions. But for me, Topsail is a doorway back to 20 years of memories and the people I loved most.

Next Adventure

Soon, my husband, our 8-month-old daughter, and I will pack up for another short but sweet beach weekend. This time, I get to share my little piece of heaven with my college roommate and her fiancé. I get to show them the places that shaped me and the love that filled those memories.

For now, though, I’ve got four days of school left. I can almost smell the salty air already.

Until then, middle school body odor it is.