So we would always bring a box of White Cheddar Cheez-its to the beach with us.  The goal was to pack them to eat after we spent all morning out in the bright South Carolina sun.  We would play catch in the swimming pool, build sandcastles, hit some volleyball, body surf the ocean waves, and ride our bikes on the beach, maybe accidentally riding over some jelly fish that had washed up on shore.  After an action packed morning, those White Cheddar Cheez-its were a nice tasty snack to eat along with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that we made for lunch. Well some of us had only peanut butter, no jelly. Actually, I think I was the only one who didn’t like jelly.  But the problem was, on the 12 hour drive to Hilton Head Island, those White Cheddar Cheez-its started to look really delicious. So often we had to buy another box for the beach once we had devoured every last crumb on the way there.

Great Aunt Shirley.  She really was great.  She owned a beach house in Port Royal on Hilton Head; that’s how my family and I got to go there for a week every summer.  I can still remember the smell of the beach house and how it stayed on my pillow for days after we had come back home. The salty spray of the ocean, lavender, maybe a hint of coconut sunscreen.  What I would give to be able to smell that one more time. To run from room to room exploring, pretending like I was seeing her beach house for the first time. To stand on the second floor landing and reach my little hands through the columns of the railing to catch the thin, circular, blue pillow like a frisbee that my sister threw to me from the living room below.  To sit at the kitchen table with her and twist my chair from side to side, hoping I got the squeaky one. To play cards at the long glass dining room table, and to sneak a peek at Aunt Shirley’s cards from under the clear table when I was pretending to tie my shoe.

But more than I miss the beach house, the beautiful ocean, and the sandy shore, I miss Aunt Shirley.  She passed away after 83 great years of life. She loved to cook, and to smile. To tell stories and jokes to us as we sat in her kitchen, eating her delicious pasta.  Although she was stubborn, she was kind and full of spirit. She taught me how to play cards, how to cook, how to build a sandcastle, and how to find a conch shell at the beach.  But most importantly she taught me how to be kind, loving, and generous.

If I am ever lucky enough to go back to Hilton Head, back to Aunt Shirley’s beach house to watch the beautiful sunset from the shore, ride my bike close to the salty spray of the sea, or build a sand castle, I will think of my Great Aunt Shirley, and all of the wonderful things that she taught me.