We just returned from our nearly annual trip to the Outer Banks. There have been a few years when we’ve traveled to other places, taken our vacations in other locales, but we always are called back to the Outer Banks.
I should probably mention here that I hate sand with a passion, and I don’t go in the ocean (I figure we evolved out of it for a reason, and I’m not going back!). So why do we keep going back to a place full of sand and ocean?
Because it’s the place of our beginnings. For nearly twenty-three years, we’ve gone back to the place we started as a couple, walking the same beach, probably picking up the same bits of shell and throwing them back into the ocean, remembering the magic of those early days, when everything was new. It’s still magic, but not in the new sense. Now, it’s the magic that comes from knowing the one you love intimately, knowing she’ll be by your side “until death do us part”, having history together.
We’re drawn back here because it’s a pilgrimage, an homage to our start. It feels sacred to us.
Do you have a place like that? A place you’re pulled back to again and again, because of some connection that place has to your life?
I’m off to shake the rest of the sand from my beach shoes and put them away until next year.