Time to Run

Along the path to the Gulf we admired trees that don’t grow in Indiana–for Midwesterners, this is the stuff of postcards and screensavers. And yet, there we were, walking right past them, on our way to dig holes in the sand and make drip castles.Friday night we all took a long walk to what eventually became known as “Hermit Crab Cove,” near the place formerly known as my lonely place, which wasn’t such a lonely place after all. The walk back to the palm-lined path was lovely in the late-afternoon light, in spite of the clumps of seaweed washed ashore from whatever storm preceded our visit, stirred the sea, left that poor sea turtle stranded, and made for murky waters all week.The general sentiment on Saturday morning, as we walked that same path toward Hermit Crab Cove was expressed on the sand in another message:We were melancholy, wanting to linger and squeeze every last moment of beachy happiness out of our vacation, waiting until the last minute to pack up and drive off. We strolled, scribbled in the sand, admired the morning sun glinting off the water, watched a bird or two patter along the water’s edge, and checked out a brittle shell.Then someone glanced back and saw the sky behind us:Okay. Enough happiness.Time to run!A vacation bracketed by rain–on the first day, and the last.The fun is over.We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog posts…