The ocean, for me, has always inspired solitary introspection. I’ve never been a fan of crowded beaches. I prefer to watch the social interactions of seagulls to those of swimsuit-clad humans.
So, visiting Tybee Island during tourist season is not really my cup of tea. And if you had asked me 16 years ago when I lived on the West Coast and was enthralled with the craggy coastline of the cold Pacific Ocean if I would ever truly enjoy the flat sandy shores of the Mid Atlantic Coast, I would probably have said, no.
But like so many other things in Georgia, the beaches also won me over.
My favorite visit to Tybee so far, was a solo trip I made. During the winter. To watch the sunrise.
As anyone who knows me can attest, I am not a morning person. But I got up at around 5:30 AM and headed out to meet the sun. Somethings are just worth the sacrifice.
The beach was shrouded in mist that morning. The air was cold and the breeze was brisk. The solitude was palpable and it was a much-needed tonic to my soul.
It was only as I was leaving that I encountered another living being of the human variety. But I wasn’t lonely.
A small group of seagulls kept me entertained, huddled together like the old-timers who gather every morning in some local establishment in small towns everywhere for an early cup of coffee and all the latest gossip. They shuffled about in the surf in chatty camaraderie, waiting to say their first “hello” of a new day to the sun as it awakened.
The sun took its time rising on that morning. Much like I do on most days. Clinging to its covers until the very last possible moment. Sluggishly making its way through the clouds and in no hurry to shake off the morning fog.
But rise it did. Perhaps not eager, but still ever faithful in going about its business of the day.