the lowcountry is the flattest place anywhere. only bridges and sand dunes provide any vantage point whatsoever.
peaches are only good in south carolina and georgia.
fried chicken from Publix, a whole watermelon, cole slaw, potato salad, and beer at the beach is the best homecoming.
no matter how long i'm gone from here, it only takes 3 minutes after disembarking to get back my "y'all" my "Deddy!" my "Mama" my "wuter" my "whare" and my "good lawd it's hawt."
good Lord it's hot here, y'all.
i've realized that my soul is rooted in the saw palmettos on the backside of a barrier island, where rattlesnakes feast and white-tailed deer flick flies and the mosquitoes leave welts like sand castles on my calves. my heart is tied to the powdered sugar sand that sprouts sea oats, palmetto trees, and loggerheads and runs forever until lazy waves push tons of sand effortlessly up and down the shore. towering pine trees dwarf the saplings of my recent memory. a sand dollar burrows after i spend forever examining it's countless fingers. a hot breeze warms my shoulders when i emerge from the ocean, powdered sugar sand turned to rock-solid, ever-changing substrate beneath my wrinkly feet.
2 comments:
You do realize Publix is not technically southern item, seeing how it came from the great state of Florida. But yeah, it is amazing how much you appreciate how great things are at home. Somehow, home always beckons.
Hope you enjoy the rest of your time of before the fantastic academic grind resumes.
I hear ya girl.
For me it's the smell of pluff mud. I love the way it smells.
And the sound of breaking waves.
luna
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