The Lights Are Off

Here’s a question for you:

What do you call that place that lives in your heart and soul—the one that brings instant peace, that fills you up and makes you feel complete?

Well, aside from the moments when Gary, Cameron, Carter, and the pups are all in one place (which is the truestversion of home), my special place is where the sea meets the land. Where the white sand beaches shift softly underfoot. Where the salt in the air feels as warm and full of promise as a brand new day.

Right now, that place is the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and we are completely at peace. This is a new destination for both Gary and me, and we’re lucky enough to be experiencing it together for the first time. We’ll be here for a week—but honestly, it might not be enough.

Our campsite is tucked between the sand dunes and the intercoastal roadway, between Cape Hatteras and Nags Head. It’s a perfect little wedge of paradise.

We took the dogs down to the beach today to see how they’d react. They love the sand—run wild in it, dig it, roll in it—but they’re unsure about the ocean. They watch the waves with suspicion and stare at the other dogs gleefully chasing the surf, clearly thinking:

“What the hell are those doggies doing?”

Tonight, on our first night here, there’s a bright full moon above us and the wind is howling. The campground is quiet. The air is cool. There’s a calmness in the chaos of the wind. Of all the places we’ve called home for a night on this journey, this one feels the most us.

It feels like summer.

It feels like freedom.

It feels like the life we’re meant to live.

With so much open time, I find myself sitting and thinking, letting memories drift in with the tide. Being at the beach always takes me back to my childhood on Long Island. My playground was Robert Moses Beach, and later, during those delightfully rebellious college years, it was Fire Island.

I think of sunny days with my family, swimming in the ocean, foolishly trying to tan my Irish freckled skin, and chasing that endless summer feeling that only exists when you’re young. As a teenager, beach days with my friends usually meant some form of shenanigans, especially on Fire Island. But those stories—well, they’re not for this blog.

Let’s just say… if Allison, or Lee and Denise are reading this, I’m willing to bet there’s a smile crossing your face right now.