Isle of Palms – Day Two

Having been home only one day, I’m already struggling to remember the ocean. Was I really there? Was it all a mirage? Where did all of this laundry come from?

I woke up early Monday morning for my second and final sunrise, moving the alarm clock up an extra 15 minutes so I could catch the full effect. Again, it was worth it.

This sunrise was more colorful than the last, so I ended up taking double the amount of photos. Every few minutes it looked different. I could hardly put the camera down.

The beach was a little busier Monday morning than on Sunday, and not just with the usual runners and sweethearts. Families were out early, some still in their pajamas and some already in their swim suits. On the other side of the pier I came upon a young family with two little boys collecting seashells, and that is when I snapped my favorite photograph.

Obviously, they are strangers to me, but for a split second I became choked with the thought my own boys and how much I missed them. Oh, the irony of it all! One minute I long for relief from the constant pull and tug of motherhood, and the next minute I miss them so badly my stomach hurts. I nearly hugged these little boys and wished them a fun vacation. A short time after I talked to Chuck on the phone and told him how much I was thinking about them… He just laughed at my wishy-washy heart and told me to enjoy what time I had left.

So I did.

That bump in the sand you see is a washed-up horseshoe crab, though unlike the dead one I saw the previous morning, this one was still alive. He didn’t allow me to turn him over to see his underbelly. So I left him alone with the other things I found.

Karin and I were laying on the beach by 8 a.m. again in an attempt to make every little minute count. Check-out was looming, but we had just enough time for another dip in the Atlantic.

Things were melancholy along the ride home. Vacation never really takes your problems away. Instead, they just hang in suspension for a time and eventually you have to pull them down and carry on. My sweet friend could’ve used another two days, or two months, laying on the beach in peace.

We got word early this morning that Chuck’s Aunt Joyce passed away in the night.  Last week, the last time I saw her, she whispered something that’s been stuck with me since. “Where does the time go?” Of course, she wasn’t asking me this question with the expectation of an answer. I have no answer. I don’t know where the time goes or how it must feel to be at the end of your life and feel as if it’s been too short. I just held her hand and let the silence sit there between us.