Less ritzy perhaps than Jekyll or St. Simons (which are located close by), Amelia Island has a multi-layered charm all its own.
The sand is not like the white sugar of Destin, but instead is full of shells. Dolphin sightings are frequent. The beaches seem less crowded, more relaxed, than those in Cocoa.
And the island itself...unlike Destin, there is a sense that a lot of people really live there, and their families lived there before them, perhaps for several generations. While so many vacation places tend to feel transient, Amelia Island feels sturdy. It's got depth. The pace of the island has a friendly, slow, genteel quality typically associated with the South. There are old Oak trees, Antebellum homes, Spanish moss, antique stores. On top of that layer is, of course, the pirate lore, which is clearly evident in a walk through the historic town.
Most of all, for Dane and I, Amelia Island is a healing place during difficult times.
Our honeymoon was glazed with sorrow when we learned, the day we arrived at Amelia, that a dear friend of the Gustafsons, Donna, had died suddenly. It was a huge shock-Donna had just been helping out with our wedding right before. We were sad, especially Dane, for whom Donna was like a close aunt or second mother. We enjoyed being together as newlyweds, but our hearts were full of sadness for the loss of Donna, and for her family and friends.
The second time we went to Amelia was towards of the end of the summer. I don't know where most of my summer went after mom died in June. I really don't remember much. However, I do remember the trip to Florida that we took. We went to see Dane's family, and were able to spend two days in the middle of the week at the Omni Resort in Amelia Island thanks to my aunt and uncle. They travel often and very generously booked a room for us at the resort using their travel points. Neither of us had ever stayed anywhere like that in our lives-we felt so spoiled and pampered. The view of the ocean was spectacular, and the beach was so vast and quiet. I remember reading a Fitzgerald novel and scrunching my toes the sand, feeling the hot sun on my back. For the first time that summer, it actually felt like summer. No, that afternoon on the beach felt like the essence of what all summers hope to be: relaxing, hot, restorative, endless. It felt like summer could last forever.
Afterwards, we both felt like we had been there for a week, even though it was only two days. Because the island is so friendly and small, it seemed like we knew the place very well from the summer before. We could navigate our way around easily and even recognized a couple of people. One man, a chef at a resturant we had visited on our honeymoon, actually remembered us.
When we left, we felt so restored. Again, we had came broken, and again the island and the ocean helped to heal.
Besides the vacation itself, besides the sunshine, there is something so healing about the sea. Perhaps the soothing, constant sound of the waves is a reminder that change is inevitable. Things are always shifting and changing, but there is stability even in that. If anything was an example of being able to withstand the changes brought about by time, it's the ocean. Changeable, yet always the same. Soothing as a lullabye. The words may experience variation over the years, but the melody always seems to survive somehow.
When I'm tired, stressed, or finding myself unable to escape the periodic waves of sadness I have experienced recently, my mind reaches out to find the ocean. And even more specifically, the waves on Amelia Island. I may be from the mountains, but I can't think of many places that feel more like home than that island . I'm thankful for the memories which allow me to go there whenever I need to feel the sun and salty seabreeze.
