All right, well, I have a story. Real and true and not a work of fiction.
There is a place in South Carolina just outside of Beaufort. Hunting Island. A place where surf and sand meet sky with nothing in between. I’m talking nothing. There are no buildings or boardwalks, no stores or shopping malls. Hunting Island is how the beach should be. Should look.
There used to be cabins on one side of the island, with a road connecting them. Over the years with the erosion, the houses fell to the might of the ocean, all except one. It’s called Little Blue. Steepled high on 35 foot pilings, Little Blue is the last remaining house clinging to life amidst the waves. It’s an amazing site and, much to my dismay, scheduled to be torn down by the end of the year.
Sure, it survived Hurricane Matthew, but it can’t survive the will of state politics.
Apparently, from what I understand, people kept climbing the pilings and getting stuck on the interior and the state is sick of coming to their rescue. True or not, Little Blue will soon be no more.
I wanted the boyfriend to see it one time before it was gone. I said ‘let’s head down to Beaufort for a day. It’s only 5.5 hours and we can have a day away from home. No dog, no responsibilities, just you and me.”
It was the best of intentions, I admit.
I should have checked the news, stupid me. I got in the car at 3am to avoid traffic and made it down the coast in record time. Only to find the park closed when I pulled up. I wanted to smack myself silly. Now my plans were in tatters and poor boyfriend still wouldn’t get to see Little Blue before it was demolished.
We still had a wonderful time. We walked the old streets in downtown and stuck our toes in the river by Sands Beach. We traveled the aisles of Grayco and watched dolphins zip between boats before enjoying a spectacular seafood dinner on the water.
But no Little Blue.
Our impromptu honeymoon was delightful. Much needed. And a testament to planning. There are times when you have a set schedule and any little deviation is seen as disaster. I’m one of those people, a type A personality, who needs to see each tiny bullet point come to fruition. Little Blue taught me there are some things you need to let go of before you pull out your own hair.
There will be other miraculous sights for the boyfriend to see. Or perhaps the state can stay their hand a little while longer.