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The tide is high, and the marsh waters are smooth as glass mirroring the sky. Sounds are nonexistent except for the padding of our feet. As I glance across the marsh searching for any movement, I glimpse the elegant white egret silently stalking his next victim. Suddenly he stops. Standing stoically, he eyes us suspiciously. His majestic stance is held as I try not to frighten him.

With a slight breeze the reeds wave gently left to right. As the winds pick up strength, ripples form on the water blurring the images. The crisp display of clouds on the water top are no more. The current vision is more like a 6 a.m. view when my eyes refuse to open, and I still feel the grittiness of the Sandman's visit. The warm wind and sunshine feel wonderful on my face as that is the only skin exposed. I constantly try to understand why some wear shorts in fifty-degree weather while I don a winter coat, hat, and gloves.

If I only had a chair for lounging and soaking up the rays while watching the tide roll out. The marsh exudes nothing but peacefulness, and I want to live in this reality continuously.

The day has come for the long drive home, though the map on the car dash still thinks Charleston is our home. And for two months, so do we. Two hours into our ride from South Carolina, I ask, "Is it too late to turn back?" as I am not sure I am ready for the real world.

Once home, I won't have the serenity of the actual marsh though I can find plenty of pictures around the house to transport me. I hope you can glean some of the tranquility as well.