Justin and I returned home earlier this evening from our impromptu weekend getaway to Savannah.
If I have said it once I will say it a
million times, Savannah is one of my most favorite places on earth.
Justin and I were newlyweds when we visited Savannah for the first time.
It
was as magical then as it is now.
I remember sitting in one of the
city's many squares on a park bench at dusk, hand in hand, with my
husband.
It was just the two of us back in those days and we daydreamed of quitting our jobs, selling everything and
moving into one of the basement apartments off a quiet square
downtown.
This time, thirteen years later, as we strolled down uneven brick
streets our daydream was of someday retiring here.
Of being in a place where inspiration was around every turn.
Where stories were limitless and the twilight of ours could be written together.
Justin and I mused over dinner on a perfect Southern evening about what it would be like to write a book together.
I daydreamed of learning to paint and even found a beautiful
impressionist piece to bring home with us as a reminder of our time
together.
We pictured in our minds the thought of a house, downtown or in the low-lands, to welcome grandkids to someday.
