Totally random Tuesday...

(I took this picture of the pier @ Tybee when the Anderson girls came to visit back in the spring)

As you can tell, I've changed the blog format a bit. I've been thinking quite a bit recently about what it's like living on the coast. Perhaps it was spending a warm and slightly breezy day at the beach on Saturday staring out into the Atlantic - pondering the vastness of the ocean, but quite content with the simple feeling of sand between my toes. More than likely, however, it's the tragedy in the Gulf that breaks my heart a little more every time it's on the news. Being born in the Panhandle and growing up in Central Florida, I've spent my fair share along the Gulf Coast, and it breaks my heart to think about what damage has been done - and worse yet, what damage we've yet to discover.

While I've never really lived very far from the beach, it's an entirely different experience to live this close. If I've had a bad day, I don't have to think twice about going out to take a walk on the beach to decompress. A while back, a friend was soliciting advice on how to leave work at the office and not carry that burden home every night. I fail greatly most of the time when it comes to that, but I also try to make a conscious effort to breathe deeply when I cross the Intracoastal every night on my way home and let go and say to myself 'it will all be there in the morning.' And, unless I absolutely have to, I really don't like to cross back over it on the weekends (church is a different story - it's on another island, so, unless I take a boat, I don't really have a choice).

I know I'm not likely to stay in Savannah forever, but, I have learned in the 18 months I've been here that it will be really hard for me to move inland. Sure, it makes hurricane season a little more nerve-wracking, but that's completely out of my control. All I can do is enjoy what I've got while I've got it - that feeling of cool sand under your feet, seeing dolphins in the river while you're eating on the dock at AJ's, cool breezes even on balmy summer nights, and perhaps the most therapeutic of all, standing on the water's edge realizing that we're all just little fish in a great big pond.