LEAVING JEKYLL

The beach at Jekyll at night

Our golden summer was fast coming to an end and people began to leave.  My friend, Elizabeth, broke the cap on her front tooth and went home early.  Then a close relative of my buddy, Jane, died and she went home for the funeral.  And I came down with one of my infamous sore throats and began to croak and I knew I had to go home and see the doctor and my family. I called home and found my mother less than delighted that I wanted to be picked up.  Mom had expected I would go straight back to Wesleyan when the summer ended and she explained how inconvenient it would be to drive to Jekyll. It was so far and would take a lot of gas and besides...

"I need to see Dr. Scott. My throat is so sore I can barely talk."

"There must be doctors up there," she said vaguely. Tears came to my eyes.

I left beautiful Jekyll and never returned, but I have my memories of that innocent time and sometimes I dream about the beach at night. In the dreams I can fly and I drift over the water, the pale beach and the thick 

green trees.  And the moon is always full as I float by, bathed in its soft golden light.