Missing Amelia

It is the time of year when summer jealousy yields control to her more tempered sibling, fall. Thoughts of home goings, reunions and far away places have been neatly tucked away along with swimsuits, sunscreen, luggage and maps. Lazy mornings have succumbed to rushed awakening and battles over bathroom space. Each day's concerns take an appropriate order on a priority list, with some reappearing time after time and never receiving the long awaited checkmark upon their completion.

Fortunate photographs have made their debut and have found a permanent place in a cherished family scrapbook. Others wait passively inside a camera holding 19 exposed frames of film. In time, these too will receive due recognition and complete the pictorial of another summer.
Yet with all the pleasantries of a season remembered, a trace of sadness remains. A summer of art classes, riding lessons, shopping excursions and worthy causes have kept me from my most treasured portion of the earth's geographical terrain - Amelia Island.

Amelia Island, named after the daughter of a king, holds a place of royalty in my heart. Each time I cross the bridge over the tidal marshes and onto Amelia's shore I am no longer a wife and mother. My persona is transformed from the woman everyone knows to the woman who aches to write
poetry and love songs and has a "someday" novel gently tugging on the sleeves of her soul. Inspiration flows as I experience shrimp boat spattered sunrises.
The cares of everyday life at home seem to vanish while I watch dolphins playfully escort the boats on their appointed rounds

along the coast. Life's romance is more tangible while viewing sunsets over the whispering marshes. My seemingly limited vocabulary grows to include words that usually float
around inside my brain but are never uttered on a daily basis - words like ethereal and sensuous. Phrases containing these unspoken adjectives abundantly flow from my spirit to my tongue, resulting in quizzical looks from family members who have never heard me use such descriptive words.

Whether in winter, summer, spring or fall, Amelia holds its charm. The winter sky seems brighter and the summer sun warmer. The spring flowers bloom more colorfully and the autumn breezes gently kiss the sea oats on the shore with utmost pleasure. Perhaps these things only seem more vivid because I see them through different eyes with Amelia Island sand beneath my feet.

I look forward to the time when I will be there again. That time will be soon, I know, for I sense a strong yearning to become a poet, songwriter and novelist once again. A wife and mother surely needs that transformation every now and then.

Editor's Note: This composition was one of the top three non-fiction entries in a recent district-level writing competition sponsored by the National League of American Pen Women.