Mr. Write's Page

Back in the olden days, when the world and I were young, we Smiths often vacationed in Savannah. And occasionally, we rented a place at Tybee Island for the weekend. Staying at the beach was a special treat. Maybe the ultimate treat.

I remember several such occasions when I was around 10, at the peak of kid-dom. Our accommodations were on the beachfront, but always modest; elaborate rentals existed, but they were needlessly extravagant. Unnecessary.

One of those sojourns to Tybee is especially etched in my memory. On that trip, we had arrived after dark and soon were in bed. The next morning, I awakened slowly.

With my eyes still closed, I became aware of the sound of the surf and the smell of the ocean. I felt a gentle breeze and the warmth of sunlight filtering through the blinds.

I lay there and listened and smelled, thinking about the pleasures that awaited me that day. Then I opened my eyes and looked around the room. My brother Lee was still asleep. I heard no sound from Mom and Dad and Danny in the next room.

My bed was next to the window. I sat up and raised the blinds.

Before me was a spectacular sunrise over the ocean. I could hear the waves and smell the salt. The breeze was cool and gentle. I lay back on the bed and was overwhelmed by a wave of… bliss.

A handful of times in my life, I have known bliss. And that morning at Tybee, I knew in my little kid brain that I would vividly remember that moment for the rest of my life.

And I do.