I'm going back to Charleston next week. I'll find my two daughters, now women in their own right along with my ex-wife and Clare, the Bichon that was as much apart of our family as any one of us. We have gone through the past few years apart, only because one day back then I went out to find something and never came home. Everything changed that day. The journey that followed was not just my journey, it was a new path for all of us, a path alone, whether any one of us were looking for it or not. For a week or so, I'm coming home.
I've written about Kiawah before. It's where the four of us, the five of us, went through ten perfect years, through the year 2000 centennial, with all of its unknowns, the mysteries of what was to follow. Not one of us knew what was coming for our family. Four years later the rains came.
It was about that time, the turn of the century, that a local South Carolina band provided the sound track for those years. That's where I am going next week. Into the depths of a of another time, another place, of this musical memory, never more appreciated as much as it is now. Who knows where the time goes? Who knows how to get it back?