Eight days ago, I packed our bags, and headed toward the sound of the rhythmic melody of waves cresting and falling, and the brash smell of salt-laden air. I left a disheveled pile of worries at my door step; a job with mounting expectations almost impossible to meet, a blood sucking mortgage, and a vehicle on its last two wheels. I left them all behind and headed toward an Island on the east coast.
Eight hours later, I am light and spirited. I am coasting down bicycle trails under a canopy of trees heavy with Spanish Moss. I am watching two blonde-haired and blue-eyed children run across a hard-packed sandy beach toward the rush of lapping waves. I am gazing at my two-year-old son in awe and amusement as he reels in his first blue gill from the murky waters of our backyard lagoon, and I know a week is long enough. Long enough for me to fall in love with the heart wrenching and breathtakingly beautiful, Hilton Head Island.
Thank you, South Carolina, for showing, my family and I, a good time in the low country and for sending me home to Kentucky with a suitcase full of lovely, memories!