Sanibel Island

Harry and I just got back from spending a couple days on Sanibel Island on the west coast of Florida. We try to drive there twice a year, in off season, when it is quieter. We stay at the Shalimar motel and cottages. We have a small kitchen for my bottle of wine and our cheese and crackers, and a porch with a lounge chair that overlooks the ocean, which was just perfect for me to dig into "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." We always eat at the same restaurants, and Doc Fords is our favorite. In fact, we have the same entree each time we visit!

I wasn't sure how this trip was going to go after I broke off the key in a rest room lock at a gas station on the way. The clerk was not too happy with me and was noisily complaining about me in rapid Spanish as I scurried to the car after returning the key stub. Like I couldn't tell she was talking about me? Hey, I took four hundred years of Spanish in high school and college (so how is it that I can barely construct a sentence of conversation)?

I think I have been going to Sanibel since the 1970's when my parents began their winter retirement location search and we would pack in the car and drive to Naples and back in one week. Six persons in the car, one overnight stop each way. That didn't leave lots of vacation time! We all fell in love with Sanibel on a day trip. Since then, I have rented condos and gone back over the years with friends, and family in different configurations and I never tire of the spot. There have been many changes, and of course I lament that it has gone upscale, but the core is the same. Beaches strewn with the most amazing shells. Sunsets and sunrises that cast an unreal golden glow. Nature preserves, bike trails, fun restaurants, calm, clear and warm waters, abundant marine and bird life, and, did I mention shells?

I have delightful memories of shelling with my sister Mary Beth, my brother Tom, my mother, my dear friend Barb Chamberlin, my kids and now, Harry. I even recall taking my Uncle Ted there on a day trip from my parents home on the east coast of Florida and in his enthusiasm for trying to grab a shell treasure on a day with rather rough surf, he fell in the water, fully dressed. He was no youngster, either. The shelling changes from day to day and season to season. Every now and then there is a magical window of opportunity where the tides, the currents, the wave action and the moon collide and the shelling is phenomenal. The treasure hunt along the edge of the waves trying to grasp something you have spotted for just an instant that is constantly tossed and pulled away from you while rolling in the surf, is beyond fun. Add warm water lapping at your feet, silky smooth sand underfoot, the warm sun on your back, your cares and worries abated, and you are pretty much in my idea of heaven.