writing

Paradise Found

imageI can’t help it. Ingrained in me since a teen, when my best friend and I sat on the lawn covered with baby oil, holding a silver foiled vinyl album to our faces for more effective tanning, I’ve been a sun-aholic. Once I figured out baby oil didn’t work for me, I’ve gotten by with salt water, if available, or sweat, whose salt properties create a better tan. I know about the irony of white teen age girls trying to look brown when black teen age girls used to wish they were white. But I’ve never been guilted into ceasing to get a tan. My mother used to say I’d have terrible leathery looking skin, but so far, I don’t. She had melanoma on the part of her nose between her eyes, and she didn’t sit out. I’ve been to a dermatologist this month, and everything is fine. Thank you genes, and thank you Irish ancestors who threw in a hint of Mediterranean color to my skin. I don’t burn.

This week I took some time off to accompany my sister and bro in law to Hilton Head and stay at the primo Marriott Ocean Grande Resort. I don’t live a charmed life but if I did, I’d want to come here annually for 2 weeks, at the least. The only amenity missing at this resort is a masseuse. There are two dining facilities here, gym, library, hourly activities that I partook in, the ocean, 6 pools and a stocked lagoon, 4-5 hot tubs, covered parking, tennis and clinics, and porches for every condo.

My son flew in from New York as a birthday gift from my husband and I. Much better that giving him a stupid tie. And, yes, there is Uber on this small island.

Minus all that, there is the ocean. Flat as a pancake some days, body surf able others. Cold yes, but salt water gives an even brown sheen to your skin. Being on a beach, any beach in fact, is like sitting at the edge of heaven. I feel so peaceful, and calm. I’m not a big ocean swimmer, don’t get me wrong. I hold a very high respect for what a simple wave, undertow and rip can do. In fact, I’m afraid of New England Atlantic Ocean water. I’m sure having been dropped out deep beyond the waves when I was 6, has a lot to do with my fear. I’ll never forget being lost in a swirl of sand and legs, then feeling my father pull me up by my hair. I drank so much water, I vomited. But luckily, my husband swam in college, and taught our son how to navigate in rough seas.

I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that my bucket lists consists mostly of visiting beaches – Turks & Caicos, the Maldives, Pink Elbow Beach in Bermuda, Nantucket, St. Kitts, Maine, Rehoboth’s Silver Lake area, and Lewes, a mere two hour drive from my house..

In my life, I’ve been to Bermuda 3 times, Jamaica, most of the gulf side of Florida, Laguna Beach, Carmel Beach, the Greek Islands, Cancun before it became a series of resorts, Impanema, the north shore of Cape Cod, and Nantucket 22 times.

There is no lesson here in this blog. Just a glimpse into another of my passions, exposed.

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