My daughter is taking a break from preparing her graduate thesis at Ohio University with a whirlwind, four-day trip down south. She and a friend will be visiting St. Simons Island, Jekyll Island, Savannah, Georgia, and St. Augustine, Florida.
I’m tired just hearing about all that driving. Just one of those places would keep me busy for all four days. But then again, I’m not in my 20s.
In the course of helping her plan the trip, I became very wistful. OK, I was jealous. I lived in Savannah on and off for a total of seven …nearly eight … years. It’s where I met my husband, made incredible friends, enjoyed success at the Savannah News-Press (until it became a toxic snake pit) and gave birth to my first child — said daughter who was planning the trip.
I loved the city with its amazing history, architecture, cemeteries and ghosts. The marshland, barrier islands and Tybee Island were amazing. When my husband and I got our first apartment on Wilmington Island, we picked it for one main reason: As we walked in for our tour, we looked over at the large picture window overlooking the marsh just as an Atlantic bottlenose dolphin gracefully arched above the water.
I fell into a rabbit hole when Kelly asked me for restaurant and hotel suggestions. I was really hoping to get her a hotel on Bay Street and go from there with restaurant ideas. My newspaper was located at 111 W. Bay St. It is now a Ruth’s Chris Steak House. How fun it would be to have her dine near my old office. But she’s a vegetarian, so I didn’t suggest the steakhouse.
Unfortunately, the “haunted” hotel she wanted was booked because it was the start of the weeklong St. Patrick’s Day celebration in Savannah. She was only planning one night there (a Sunday), so we didn’t expect it to be problematic. It was.
Which brings me to my memories of baby Kelly and her first (and only) St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah. She was 5 months old and the cutest baby around. I dressed her in a cute, shamrock-adorned onesie. I need something else, though. She was bald and I wanted to “girl-ify” her. I found a shamrock garter and put that across her forehead. Sort of like Princess Diana wearing a necklace as a headband, right?
About an hour later, I decided to take it off her head. She wasn’t fussing but I ended up thinking it looked stupid. When I took it off, her forehead had a deep groove. The stupid thing was too tight. I’m not sure how I avoided being arrested for being a bad mom.
We did find her a nice hotel in the historic district. And they had a great time squeezing in ghosts, history, beaches and turtles.
I miss those days of spontaneous fun. And sometimes I miss Savannah. But it will still be there when I’m ready to travel. It has been since 1733. A few years won’t matter.
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