The thing about living in a beach town (aside from sand in unlikely places, the deception of age on hard-weathered surfaces and the overnight magic of rust) is that you don’t exactly have to beg people to visit. We are on our third round of
houseguests family and friends who may as well be family in as many weeks. In fact, yesterday I drove to Cancun to drop off one round and pick up another…
Having our people here has been like an official housewarming — a ceremonial smudging we couldn’t have performed with just anyone. Morning yoga and late night corn hole on our newly covered porch, shared meals, tequila, dish duty and bunk space, and the official hanging of a first hammock beneath the bougainvillea all kind of needed to happen before what we call home could actually be felt as such.
So now, for a week with my folks,
spring break with Sigorni and plenty of good living worth writing home about, if I didn’t suddenly feel quite at home already.
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”― Mae West