When we first moved to St. Simons Island we immediately joined a group of people who met the first Friday of every month for a sunset beach picnic.
This, we told the folks back in Texas and New York, was what living on an island was all about. Everyone brought wine, snacks to share, beach chairs, and the requisite Crate and Barrel table-in-a-bag.
But jobs, kids and other real life matters demanded rescheduling until there was no scheduling at all. With the Atlantic Ocean a little more than a mile from our front door, it was easy to go weeks, sometimes months without seeing it.
As out-of-towners inquire about our home-for-sale, the distance to the beach has become just another number like square footage or annual taxes.
It was already snowing when I was interviewing in Buffalo last week, but temperatures are still in the 70s here. When our friends Rog and Anne suggested a beach picnic last night, we jumped on it.
Daylight Savings Time meant hauling food, blankets and cameras over the dunes by 5 p.m. Rog, the ultimate immortalizer, took both video and timer/tripod group shots with his still camera.
There was an unspoken sadness that this would probably be the last time for us to do this in this place.
The evening responded with a lipstick sunset and soft sea swells. Shrimp boats were silhouetted on the distant horizon and the sea breeze was almost still. We shared the beach only with the sea gulls.
Conversation was lively, about our daughters, recent adventures and future plans. I couldn't help but wonder why we would leave something so perfect.
My husband mentioned he was glad tobe going to family and did not want to move to a place where we didn't know anyone. It seemed impossible that Rog and Anne were complete strangers when we moved here six years ago.
They will visit us in New York. We'll picnic again as the sun sets over Lake Erie.
And maybe this time we'll do a better job of celebrating the people and places in our own backyard.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs