Wake up. Coffee. Sunrise. Sunset. Wine. Repeat. We seemed to have found routine, even though we’d been in a different state every night, and I definitely wasn’t complaining. I grabbed my coffee to go and made my way back to Long Beach.
It was 5:30 in the morning and as my car crept over the last hill, I was in awe. Was this the best sunrise I’d ever laid eyes on? Signs point to yes. The sky engulfed me; I felt as though I was walking right on it, as the firey glow reflected a mirror image across the calm waters. The illusion was shattered as a shell began to creep across the sand accompanying me at the light show. Soon enough, a heron swooped down to join the beach party.
Seagulls called out, saying good morning to the gull, as if it was a ritual.
“Good morning, Mississippi,” I whispered, as I’m not one to break a tradition.
I could’ve fallen asleep in the sand right then and there, not waking back up until the high tide tickled my toes, however, something told me I had a better fate waiting at Harbor View.
I ordered a Nitro Cold Brew and sat in the sun sipping until our table on the deck was ready.
Mimosas, omelettes and toast–oh my was this a breakfast to remember. We practically rolled ourselves back out onto the beach, where I kept my feet planted in the sand until the sun did a 180 across the sky.
Sunscreen. Nap. Swim. Beachwalk. Repeat. Another routine was formed in the blistering southern heat, but, again–I wasn’t complaining.