A lot of families I know have a vacation destination of choice to which they return annually. For my family, this hot spot is Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. North Myrtle, to be exact. This popular coastal locale is not exactly the Taj Mahal of beaches, but when my dad invested in a timeshare condo there twenty years ago it became our home away from home. Well, as homey as a one-bedroom condo the size of a walk-in closet can be. And I love it there. All two square feet of it.
Every significant person and place in our lives forms a unique colorful palette of memories in our brain. The colors on my Myrtle Beach palette, if blended together and brushed across the surface of an empty canvas by the hands of a skilled artist, would create for me a priceless portrait of the summers of my life.
Some of the most peaceful excerpts from my childhood, adolescence, college independence, married life, and parenthood lie within the walls of that condo and the invisible walls of that city.
Fifty-one weeks of the year I'm likely to subscribe to the notion that "Life is a bitch and then you die" but for that one week every year, the third week of July, my life truly is a beach.
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