I went home this past weekend. Not home to Alabama...not to the house I grew up in. I went to my adopted home. I went to the water. I don't know at what point I found the Gulf of Mexico or if it found me. I'm thinking the latter. All I know is that those waters feel like home.
I didn't grow up going to the beach every summer like most of my friends. I grew up in a small town in central Alabama where two rivers ran together. Many a weekend was spent on a bass boat heading to a floating dock to swim in murky, mysterious waters. But my daddy wasn't a fan of the beach...he preferred the mountains. We ventured to the beach a couple of times and I loved it.
It wasn't until I moved to Florida after college that I truly was able to embrace the allure of salt water. I love the fact that I can get in my car at home and in 30 minutes time roll down the window and smell that briny air.
No matter how anxious or stressed I am just a few minutes smelling that air and watching the waves and I can feel a change in me...my blood pressure drops...my soul is soothed.
I don't think it's by accident that I'm surrounded by a group of friends who are like family...well, they are my family...that love the water as much as I do. It is with them and because of them that most of my fond memories from adulthood so far involve being on the waters of the Gulf.
Countless hours have been spent standing hip deep on a sand bar with a cold beer in hand or cruising up the St. Marks River looking for the perfect swimming hole to jump in and cool off from a day in the hot sun. Hours spent on a deck overlooking white sand and blue waves rolling into shore are my version of heaven. And toasting a glorious Gulf coast sunset with champagne and my friends is life affirming.
A dear friend and I exchanged presents at Christmas and her gift simply took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. It was a series of three paintings representing three places on the Gulf coast where we have shared cocktails, heartaches, triumphs, tears and laughter. One is the St. Marks lighthouse were we often escape for an afternoon of beer and oysters. The second is a drop-dead gorgeous sunset on St. George Island where we have fled to on several occasions to escape the realities of life. And the third is of the iconic white Adirondac chairs overlooking the beach at Seaside where we make an annual pilgramage to indulge our love of the water and wine at a wine festival.
I haven't hung them yet because I haven't found the perfect place but I do know where those images will always have a home...in my soul.
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