Everyone has to start somewhere

My first blog. Oh my. I've come a long way baby. Having lived most of my life in a small community snuggled up to the Chesapeake Bay on Virginia's coast, I could have had a very simple life. Simple is good. We have no stop lights here, except for the ones on the bridge going and coming off Gwynn's Island, my home..........not physically now, but will always be home in my heart. Our homes, no houses mind ya, are built with love, filled with loved and the love is shared. We are a community that hurts when others hurt and laugh out loud when joy fills their heart. Our lives are deep rooted in the land that has sustained generations and in the water, without it's harvest many generations would not have survived. Even with it's bounty dwindling the Bay stills draw waterman too seek their fortunes.

My early memories consist of long days playing out in the yard of our home on Gwynn's Island. Guess we were situated just about in the middle of the island right behind one of it's two post offices, hubs of activity in our small community. Our post office was once called the Buster House. It was a small building, red in color situated on a corner of our land right by the main road. My Mom had once run a business there selling snow cones. That of course had to be before me cause I have no memories of that. I would wait daily until I saw the mail truck arrive, give Miss Florence Carney time to sort the mail and run through the field, with Moma's eye trained on my every move, to get our mail. Everyone always tried to get the mail early before Florence had time to read it all! Florence always sat in a chair behind the counter which was real high, to a little girl that is. After she leaned over the counter, and handed me the mail I'd trace my steps back to Moma waiting for me on the side steps. She'd go through the mail, and return to her kitchen and her daily chores. Me I'd return to my play, picking flowers to get married, or finding sticks to make horses out of. Running around the porches was always fun, and the hammocks made a good place to just lie around and day dream!!!

Lunch was always at noon. If Daddy was home he'd be finished his painting, there was always painting to do on that old house. We'd eat our lunch, then he would head for a hammock, I'd be put down for a nap, why is it you fight them when you are little and fight for them when you are grown!!! After lying in the bed, watching the curtains flow from the windows in the cool breeze, I'd sleep so sound, hate to admit it now, but I loved that time of the day. Wake up, Moma would have her stuff done, she'd have a snack packed and we'd head to the beach. Always love going to Bay Shore. The beach then had wide white sand and you could walk out in the water on a sandy bottom clear of debris. An occasional blue crab would scurry by, sometimes taking a nip out of your toe. The minnows would glisten as they swam by. We would play for what seemed like hours but only minutes when it came time to leave! Moma would pack us up and we would ride in the trunk of the car not getting sand or water on the seats. The oldest traveler would be in charge of keeping the top up, while we rode, feet dangling over the bumper up the road to our house. We'd wave to the neighbors and call all the dogs to follow us home! Back at the house a quick outside rinse and off the the bath to get ready for super.

Life was simple. But we didn't know it. We filled each day with as much fun as we could. By the end of the day our eyes closed sometimes before our heads hit the pillows, only to dream of that we had done that day or what was planned for the next. Simply wonderful.......