I have major destination addiction.
It never fails -- every time I get wrapped up in the idea that everything will somehow be better when I go somewhere else. All of the things that bother me about myself will magically disappear because I'll be surrounded by friends, family and the thrill of new places, new experiences, and the nostalgia of being in a place that feels like home. And yes, it works. It works because I'm being distracted by all the aforementioned people and places and things. But having been on SO many trips, I have become wise enough to know that I will always return home to what problems I had run away from. Because they never actually left me, they just kind of...faded away a little.
But I also don't want to discount everything I learned from this trip. Each place and each person left me with a little something extra to think about that I hadn't before. I heard stories from generations before me, poured through old family photos, drove on back roads with my sister. I relived my own experiences of my childhood as my daughter played with her great-grandparents.
So. Myrtle Beach. My husband and I joke that we are forever traveling long distances to do the same thing we could do 10 minutes away. Leave the beach to drive 7 hours to go to the beach -- story of our lives. And I don't want to seem ungrateful about this, because the opportunity to be with family is the most important thing to me.
There is something so bad it's good about all beach towns. Cheap t-shirts with images that make absolutely no sense in any other context except in a beach town, like Marilyn Monroe with huge fake boobs wearing a confederate flag bikini. Or kittens with sunglasses laying in beach chairs wishing you were there.
Why can I buy a koala figurine at a miniature golf place in South Carolina?
We drove the back roads up to Maryland, stopping in one of my favorite places -- Wilson, NC. Spent time with the whirligigs and even took a tour of where they were made. I realize as a visitor I typically see what I want to see at first glance, but Wilson...I have heart eyes for you. If you ever find yourself there, do yourself a favor and check out Eyes on Main Street and talk to the guys keeping the legacy of Vollis Simpson alive with the Whirligig Park.
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