I get it. We are in a small, very small motel right smack on the Gulf of Mexico. I paid such a tiny sum for this one bedroom, full kitchen place. Less than $80 folks. I can see the sunset and rise from my windows. I have coconuts hanging from a tree outside the bedroom. But this?
I have four kids from various states (Indiana included) in my room currently. Five hours ago, they were strangers. I have had drinks, shared stories with other parents, couples, and adults.
I’m making friends. I’m making memories. And I get why people return to places year after year.
Tomorrow night we are all cooking out, a group of six rooms. It’s just neat, something I’ve never experienced this. I’m choked up by the thought of this and what it has to mean to my kids. And that it would be 17 years I’ve been married and here I am, 1000 miles from home, on an island, meeting people who what to know us because we are just here.
I say it, but I can’t ever scream it loud enough, it’s a blessed and beautiful life.
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