Dauphn Island, Alabama

I swam in the ocean for the first time when I was eight years old. It was in Mexico on the Pacific side. During that trip, my family went to a charted island with a cove and swim up bar. I remember standing waist deep in the waves as the tide came crashing in, and a perfect shell came into my hands. Since that day, I have been on a quest to have another moment of finding the perfect shell. I have combed beaches in Hawaii, California, Florida, even Alaska on my quest. I never would have imagined the perfect shell to show up in Alabama, but this trip has been full of surprises.

The first surprise was Dauphn Island. On the map, Dauphn Island is a thin strip of land in the Gulf of Mexio. I thought we might have to take a ferry, but there is long bridge out to the island. The island is home to a bird sanctuary and a lot of boats, a few restaurants, and souvenir shops.. I guess the whole west end of the island was destroyed during Katrina, but new houses have been built, away from the water, high in the sky on stilts. Some of the houses are like boxes, but some are gorgeous with terraces and decks. Just for fun I looked up the rental rate on VRBO and found whole houses for rent for under a hundred dollars a night. Shayne and spent hours walking along the sand. The tide was coming in and bringing in perfect little seashells. As the first piece of land after a long flight across the gulf, many birds land on the island for a rest. I saw a pelican and all kinds of interesting birds that I have no names for. It was during this walk, that my perfect shell washed up on the shore at my feet. I was as excited as I was when I was a little kid.

I entertained renting a beach house for the night. I thought about what it would be like to wake up Christmas morning with the surf right outside my window. I wondered if it would feel amazing to have a bucket list morning in a bougie beach house, or if it would feel lonely, waking up on Christmas in a sad attempt to ignore the holiday.

In the end, it was hunger that took us off the island. There was nothing open off season. We ended up at a shack under a bridge. I am totally calling into question the sobriety of our servers, but the food was good for a rickety building under a bridge somewhere in Alabama. I kept thinking about the long drive home and decided that maybe we should head west, instead of further and further east. Montgomery seemed like a good choice, then Birmingham, then Tupelo, Mississippi. Then neither one of us was tired, so we just kept driving. We are just pulling into Amarillo. The radio is off, because I can’t handle one more version of Jingle Bell Rock. The sky is all gray and foggy, but so far no moisture. Shayne said that we might be able to get to Pueblo West by a family member’s usual dinner time. And there is a football game. Surprise, surprise. I guess that even though my son is willing to drive all across the country with me, he still wants family and turkey on Christmas. So barring no tragedies, it looks like I might be home for Christmas after all.