Fried green tomatoes and Oysters Rockefeller. Shrimp and grits for supper and beignets for breakfast. Jazz, Southern-style, and a full moon over Moon River.
A blessed sojourn on an Island that love has made our own and which never fails to restore our souls. Cat naps in patches of sunlight like golden wine to our winter-weary hearts. Daydreaming and castle-building and dancing to a live combo at night.
Live oaks and Spanish moss. The salt tang of the marsh and a breeze that makes you know you’re alive. Picnics, indoors and out. Local seafood and early morning ambles and Earl Grey at four.
The marshes themselves: limitless, humbling. The great sweep of Aliveness. The keen and exquisite Sameness that rushes forth in greeting like an old friend.
Dolphins almost near enough to touch. White herons stark against golden grass.
Longing for summer and sapphire water and diamond spray.
Lovely to escape and lovely to come home again. And I’m already asking the age-old question, as much of a piece with our holiday as the tea and the sunlight and the bobbing boats and the curtains of moss and the inevitable tears at departure:
“When can we return?”