The island comes alive and ready to welcome another day. School buses have already hauled kids off the island for their first day back in the aftermath of Hurricane Irma. A few cars and trucks putter up the street while a bicyclist heads the other way towards the beach. 

My todo list is now multiple pages, as I return to work today. Editing, marketing, promoting and photographing are all in my future this week. Taking these few moments this morning are some of the most important. Awareness. Thankfulness. Gratitude.

I may or may not get around to the details of the past year. But for now, I have to return to the missing part of my life and get back to writing something every day. Whether I make it public or not, it’s time for me to write again. 

On Thursday, I drove twelve hours from Virginia to Georgia, returning home after a week away. Eight days before, Hurricane Irma set her site on Tybee and we didn’t stick around to wait for her uninvited arrival. We packed up the apartment as best we could. Black plastic bags stuffed and tied with furniture cushions, clothes and anything else we thought we could try to save from floating out to sea. The most important things we packed in our cars to take with us. It’s still pretty amazing to me that we can fit our whole life into two vehicles. Just about everything we need to start over; a bag of clothes, a box of hard drives, computers, cameras, and a mandolin. Clothes to wear and our tools to make a living. Other than our family, what else do we really need? That was our mindset as we locked the door behind us.

Sadness overwhelmed me as I drove over the Lazaretto creek bridge. Imagining that it could be the last time, ever. The thoughts of losing what was in the apartment was not heavy on me, but the thoughts of losing our beloved community and the life we have made here, that was terrifying. I wasn’t ready for this part of our life to be over. Our minds were plagued with these same thoughts less than one year ago when we were vacationing in Costa Rica. Hurricane Matthew was headed straight for our slice of paradise we called home. We were already familiar with our conversation of “what if…?” As much as we didn’t want to, we had to come to terms with answers to that question. 

For the last week, we visited family and friends in Virginia. Laughing, cooking, cleaning, eating, visiting…all while the TV continued to blurt out minute to minute updates as to where this unprecedented monster storm was going to make landfall. Refreshing our phones for Facebook updates and bits of information with hopes to see if our island would be spared…again. 

Over the past year I learned to breathe. Not breathing for survival, but breathing to live. I forced myself to slow down again this past week. Breathe in. Breathe out. Again, but slower. B r e a t h e I n . . . B r e a t h e Ou t . . . I accepted this week as a gift. A gift of time with my family. It was a gift to cook for them. To have meals together. To run errands with my mom. I took time to sleep and to rest. Something my body needs more of to restore and heal. (More on all of that in another post) 

On Monday we watched videos from our phones, as the ocean tides rushed in breaching the dunes of Tybee. Filling the marshes and every little crevice of our island. We cried as we watched our friends’ homes become invaded with several feet of saltwater and mud. Many of these people just recently recovered from damage from last year. 

As horrible as it was to watch, we still let out a sigh of relief, knowing that the water will recede. The sun will eventually come out and dry up the soggy mess. The people of Tybee will draw in closer and band together. They’ll roll up their sleeves, clean up the mess and rebuild. Tybee will recover and heal, because that’s what she does.

Waking up, we planned to take showers and hit the town for as much as we could stuff in a few hours as possible. We’ll… as any seasoned traveler will know, you have to roll with things as they come, because stuff doesn’t always go as planned. We did not plan to have the hot water not work in our hotel room. After calling maintenance and a sweet little gal wearing navy blue work overalls did her maintenance magic, an hour later than scheduled we were on our way. We hiked a few blocks to the nearest Cafe DuMonde so we could start the day with our sugar fix. Beignets from Cafe DuMonde are a must have treat in New Orleans. They are fried dough squares served three in a serving and are covered in what seems to be, a full cup of confectioners sugar.

We were then soaring high on a sugar buzz and called an uber to get us to the other end of town to attend Catholic mass at a cathedral near our already arranged lunch gathering spot. I am not catholic, but Carolyn is. I enjoy worshipping God in any of his houses. The cathedral was just stunning, it was nice to pause and reflect on the goodness of the Lord and all of his glory, thankful for his grace and mercy that have been extended to me in my life. 

After mass we walked around the corner and wandered into a really cool used bookstore. Anyone that knows me well, knows that I could just submerge myself for hours and hours in a bookstore. That’s when my introvert self is soothed and comforted. I run my fingers across the pages of real paper books, as the scent of paper and ink nurture me inside like home cooked meal. This store immediately reminded Kyleigh and myself of the book store we stumbled into in Key West last year. I purchased an antique post card of New Orleans as my token souvenir. I’ll use it as a bookmark.

We had plans for brunch at 12:30 so we walked a few doors down to the Live Oak Cafe to meet our friend Kenny Murphy who moved to NOLA from Savannah about eighteen months ago. The bustling cafe was filled with chatter and clinking of silverware and dishes. We were seated right next to the band. Lively music and kept the spirits high as we placed our drink orders and soon Kenny arrived. It was so nice to see him happy, a smile that is genuine and looks as if he is where he belongs playing jazz music in the town where it all began. It takes a lot to pursue your dreams of making art, or music. Not an easy task. I fully applaud those who step up to make it happen. Kenny is an artist who I knows what it means to put in the hours of dedication and hard work to fulfill a dream.

After brunch Kenny took us to see our friend Anna Lee who also used to live on Tybee Island. Anna Lee works at a really cool place called the Bayou Wine and Beer Garden. This place is huge! We ubered over there and walked from the front of the bar all the way through to the back side where we saw that familiar smile that will light up a room. Anna Lee was hosted us with style and grace as we sipped wine and snacked on a Charcuterie. Another friend, Rose aka Mary Margarita (who also just moved to NOLA) showed up in her In for a Penny T-shirt, although she took the liberty to re-design it during one of her drunken craft nights. See photos.

I’d love to return to New Orleans for a longer trip. There is just so much to see and do. It was hard to fit it all in the 20 hours we were here!

We wrapped up the day and hit the road by 6:00 so that we could be in Baton Rouge in time for dinner.