Day Five, Off the Island, the Ghosts of Savannah

As we ate, my sweet tea disappeared.  J.J.'s glass kept getting lipstick prints on it even though she wasn't wearing lipstick. Then the window reflection made it look like there was a 6 ft tall gorgeous drag queen standing behind me laughing and undoing her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders.

All of these things had logical explanations, but we decided it was more fun to think we were dining with the ghosts of Savannah and the ghosts are gloriously fabulous. Good company, all around!



We headed out to walk around town and visited the Telfair Museum, the Mercer House,  and a couple of shops. Mercer House was a tour of no photographs allowed, but the guide was seriously channelling a younger Morgan Freeman, and if you closed your eyes, you would seriously think you were there with a wily Jim Williams and Mr. Freeman. I am not one to talk about specific ghosts and haunting, but I swear Jim was there in the purple room grinning at the whole ordeal. Jen said maybe I was picking up on her mental assessment of how the museum artifacts are being displayed and cared for, which is not up to standards (cabinet holding books, was bowing from the weight of the books among many things).

Jen drove us to Tybee Island for a tromp on the beach. The fog settled in fast. It was suddenly cold!

It was surreal to walk in the fog with the tide rushing in on a near empty, possibly radioactive beach.

So then we headed to find a hotel, sadly, nothing was available. We were left to walk the streets of Savannah when the good and evil may waltz and play together. It was fun! We even found the exact make and model of my first car. A 1953 Chevy, automatic transmission, 4 door, black and chrome.

And of course crossed paths with a ghost tour.

Then exhausted we headed back to the car, no hotel rooms nearer the airport either. We parked in the car and talked until about 3 am, then ate breakfast at the Waffle House.

Oh, did I mention airport? To be continued......

Day Five on the Island, Saying Goodbye

 

Saying goodbye was hard. There was a lot of hugging. Southerners hug a lot. There were tears. It was surreal leaving, loading bags on the boat, perfect weather. I even got a sunburn from the boat ride. The air was sweet and salty, like caramel.

Tucked away in my bag, a pirate's map to unlocking my own sabotages. So grateful for this time and place, like a rift, splitting open my own guts and revealing the landscape of my inner workings.

And so the journey home began.

Ossabaw Island, Day 4 Pictures

Ossabaw Island, Day 4, Sunrise

Today, I jumped out of the bunk beds, barefoot down the ancient wood floors, and quietly headed out to the docks. Every morning before, I was up and out here too late and other folks had already seen the pigs, scared them back into the marshes. Today, I was set.

Quietly, I put my footsteps in the soft part of the sand in the path, avoiding the crinkly fallen Palmetto leaves. I found fresh tracks, steaming pig dung, and I even heard some soft snorting the in grass. Alas, though, I did not lay my eyes on the elusive wild Ossabaw pig. Today is the last day of the workshop, tomorrow morning we load the boats and head back to shore and our families.

I, sad that I nearly caught my glimpse yet failed, sat on the dock and watched the sunrise. Sometimes, even when you do not get what you worked for, God lands another gift in your hands. The sunrise this morning, before the others stirred and the coffee started brewing, before the trade ships start yelling at each other in the passage waters, rumbling like thunder, this moment of peaceful quiet that even the wildlife pauses....this was my moment of prayer for the day. This is Ossabaw's cathedral.

Oh my heart aches for home and my babies. I am torn between this magical place and home, hoping to take a wee bit of the magic here home. That is what I asked for, to leave the regret I have carried in my jeans pocket for nearly two decades and bring home instead seashells and island talisman.