We had a plan: milk these three beach weeks until the very end. A good plan, considering the 16 straight days of sunshine. A plan destined for an untimely demise in the face of Florence the Relentless.
Tomorrow we’ll leave, two days early, while the sun still shines. While the brutal winds and surf continue to gather strength to the east. While there’s still a semblance of normal for everyone who lives here year round.
It’s time to go, pick up the reins of life at home and leave this little sandbar until the calendar brings us back to summer. I look harder to find the sun at home, peeking around the angles of our neighborhood for a glimpse of color, of light. I need to work for dawn when I’m home instead of stepping up a few steps into the rose and gold and orange and silver gift handed to me daily since the end of August.
So I’ll work a little harder to find dawn and breath and calm. And I’ll keep an open heart and mind that the sandbar makes it through another onslaught to welcome us back again.