Sylvia Jeffreys shares cherished Gold Coast holiday memories from her childhood

A fenced patch of dirt and a scattering of tiny white stones; that's all that remains of the holiday units that housed my happiest childhood memories.

Like so many retro properties on the Gold Coast, the modest seven-unit complex fell victim to progress in 2022. It was razed to the ground to make way for another huge tower that will soon secure a space in the increasingly crowded skyline of Broadbeach. 

"Hume Lodge" was a classic 1960s two-storey brick block.  Its semi-circle driveway, lined with the aforementioned stones, was covered by a carport propped up by timber posts, while a clothesline ran the entire length of the grass that buffered the back of the property.  A tall brick letterbox stood proudly at the front, and small balconies stretched across the upper level. 

From an outsider's perspective, perhaps, there was nothing special about it.  But everything about this place was treasured by my family.

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I've always yearned to travel far and wide, leaving home for the UK virtually the moment I graduated from high school, then following a profession that promised adventure.  

But now that Hume Lodge is gone, I can appreciate more than ever how memories forged in familiar places can be so much more potent - and formative - than the excitement of experiencing new destinations.

Growing up, summer holidays were an all-in affair for the extended family on Mum's side. Three families, each with three kids, would pile into two two-bedroom units owned by our grandparents who had the good fortune to buy in when my mum was 13 years old. 

Over two-ish weeks every December, we rolled around with sandy feet, wet togs and baggy board shorts with the slow simplicity of a beach holiday that involved no plans or reservations. 

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Too many of my recollections from childhood have disintegrated or morphed over time, but my memories of those Hume Lodge days - accumulated over almost two decades - are still so clear, they're almost visceral:

Finger buns, salty chips and Christmas lunches on the front lawn. Prawns, equally distributed, soft drinks that we were never allowed at home.  

Touch footy on the school oval across the road, "murder in the dark" around the carport, cousins (who shall not be named) squeezing lemons into their hair in pursuit of sun-bleached tips.

Grandpa standing silently in his swimmers gazing across the school towards the ocean, anchored in thought.  

Barefoot walks to the beach, 30-cent cones from the Macca's at the Oasis.  Sneaking into the fancy pool at Jupiters Casino.

So much laughter.  As the youngest of nine cousins, a lot of keeping up.

The sound of the ocean crashing at night and the smell of salt drifting through the open window.

Mum's day bed (for afternoon naps). Boxing day tests. More finger buns.

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Repetition became ritual; we looked forward to the predictability of a Gold Coast summer. Although, mostly, we looked forward to continuous days spent with our cousins. 

Of course, we didn't know it then, but during those weeks, we established a closeness that has served us immeasurably throughout our lives. We know each other so intensely I can safely predict that more than one of them will laugh at my sentimentality. But I'm the youngest, I'm used to it.  

Not long after the units were reduced to dust, one of my cousins drove by the site, scooped up a handful of stones and encased them in glass.  The Hume Lodge Memorial Trophy is now a prize for the winning team at our biannual Christmas trivia competition.  

We gather in a different patch of Southeast Queensland these days, but every Summer the next generation - our children - are forging their own foundations in familiar places with their cousins on both sides of the family; swims and sinkies, bomb dives and dress-ups.  

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I hope my boys will one day travel far and wide and experience all this world has to offer, but for now they're experiencing their own "Hume Lodge"; a simple, familiar place that will hopefully become so special to them it's worth encasinging some fragments in glass.