I miss water. I miss seeing it, biking to it, walking next to it, driving by it, and, when I'm lucky, swimming in it. I miss pretty much everything about living near Lake Michigan, especially because I have swapped it out for fairly landlocked central North Carolina. Sure, there's the Eno River and alleged swimming holes to be explored. But, that's not the beach, and I love beach.
Finally, after nine months of complaining about wanting to go to the coast of North Carolina, Willie and I hopped in the car yesterday and headed east. Two and a half hours later, we arrived in Wrightsville, a town on the beach right next to Wilmington.
It was a cloudy day -- 30% chance of rain -- and even a little chilly with the wind. We found a spot on the beach away from the not-too-big-crowd, settled in with our chairs and cooler and magazines...and chilled.
Willie got me to go in the water, which was a good thing, because it was just about the best time ever. Big waves, a strong undertow, salty water...I was not in Kansas anymore.
Before leaving Wrightsville, we saw three wedding parties (two ceremonies on the beach), heard lots of thick southern accents, and ate some fresh fish.
The day pretty much ruled.
So, now I've changed my geographical classification to living not-too-far-ish from the water.
And even though I was reminded about what part of the country we live in when we pulled up to a Shell station on the way home,