I’ve been vacationing at some beach on the Panhandle my entire life – some of my earliest, my precious memories are sitting on the white sands, staring out at the Gulf.
Over forty some odd years, not much has changed in that regard. I still love nothing more than pulling up my chair to the shore and just getting lost as the tactile sensations of wind, cool ocean spray and taste of salt envelop me.
My husband and kids and I realized early on that we all shared this passion. When we first started that great southern tradition of throwing kids in the back of the car and heading south, we were like most family vacationers: we’d plan for months for that seven days of heaven on the beach.
That lasted all of about…well, maybe one year.
We couldn’t stay away. One beach trip became two trips – a long week of Saturdays in June followed up with perhaps a long weekend over Labor Day.
Then it became three – perhaps a Memorial Day weekend, a week in July and Labor Day – that should do it!!
Um, no. We then discovered that the week after Christmas, starting on December 26th was a completely different type of vacation – no long afternoons turning into late night evenings on the beach – but instead, coveted early afternoon hours in December with a jacket and a fire pit – and late night evenings playing Uno, or Risk or Monopoly with the sound of surf outside the door. And unbelievably gorgeous winter sunrises and sunsets that light the sky on fire. But most importantly: quality time with loved ones, decompressing against the backdrop of an ever changing blue sea and sandy shore that changed almost daily with our growing kids – yet offered a constant reassurance in our lives that was always somehow “there” for us. Our place. Our sandy beach. Our surf. Our memories! We realized we had to find our own little place that really was just ours. Several years ago, we finally made that dream come true!