Island Girl

Boca Grande. One of my New Year’s Resolutions from last year was to make Gasparilla Island a home. And a home it has become. I have only been there twice so far, but in less than 30 days, I will be back again, and that is why I am sitting here writing about this island that I wish you all could spend time on. It is truly magical; filled with legends and seashells, croquet tournaments and long afternoons in the sun. When you step onto the island you feel like you have stepped back into the 1920s and whatever you left behind at home becomes simply a memory. The island is where the mysterious ocean meets carefully pedicured sun burnt feet. A place where there is an overwhelming sense of community and there really is such a thing as a ‘social season’. Basically, I fell in love with the place. I have no idea why I am so blessed to be able to have an aunt who owns a place along the ocean in a town that almost feels like it belongs in a different time, but I am going to enjoy it.

The island has been called the best kept secret, and I am glad. It has been featured in the New York Times several times among other big magazines and newspapers, but the serene island has been kept private. You won’t find the pretentious attitude you would get at Naples or crowds of people shopping in tacky Florida tourists stores. The island is filled with the millionaires who have second homes along the beach and fishermen who live year round, and everyone knows everyone. In fact people say that you can’t ever tell if you are talking to the billionaire who has a second home on the island or the local fisherman. That’s what I love. Everyone is somebody, and it does not matter what somebody you are.





I will never forget my first night on the island. My friends and I pulled into the dark security gate and unloaded our stuff. We could hear the ocean but we could not see it. When I awoke the next morning on the giant king size bed, the sun was shining directly in my eyes and I sat up to the same noise I was hearing all throughout the night; the sound of the surf. If you haven’t been able to tell at all by reading this blog, water is probably my favorite thing. I love the lakes in Michigan, and I love the sea. As I sat up in the bed I turned to my right and there it was in all its glory. The turquoise blue water of the Gulf of Mexico. And with one glance I had to get there. I put on my running shoes, grabbed my iPod, and left my sleeping friends to get to the sea. With a few steps, I was there running along a basically deserted private beach with the sun beating down and waking up a sleepy town full of people with groomed poodles carrying their morning coffee to walk to the local gas station to get the newspaper. And I am not even exaggerating. And as I ran along the water, suddenly I saw a pod of dolphins jumping nearly twelve feet away from me. It was only me and the dolphins that morning, and I was totally okay with that.

If there could be a soundtrack to this island it would include songs like “Only the Ocean” by Jack Johnson, “When the Sun Goes Down” and “On the Coast of Somewhere Beautiful” by Kenny Chesney, the Michael Buble classics, of course a little Jimmy Buffet, and Eric Hutchinson’s entire album. Those songs are the songs that are played as you lay in the sand and take a break to fly a kite, or when you get on your boat for the first time and feel the choppy waves of the ocean underneath you, or when you are grilling hamburgers for 12 people, or when you are driving your golf cart to grab some tuna for lunch at the store in town. If that doesn’t get you then maybe knowing that Katherine Hepburn and JP Morgan owned a house on the island and the Bush family spends a couple weeks vacation on the island every Christmas break will let you know that the seven mile island has got personality.

This place is a place for me of complete restoration for your body and soul. I am so looking forward to the deep red sunsets and the morning jogs along the street passing new neighbors. I can’t even wait for the early morning walks along the water when the sky is still grey and your hair is a mess but you are drinking the best cup of coffee. And in my mind right now I can picture the palm trees in the front yard and the tiny little orange tree next to the garage. And I can see Banyan Street and I can see church with its picture of a lighthouse on the front sign. And I can see the Gasparilla Inn golf course that lines along the coast. I simply cannot wait to be reunited with this place, where hopefully I can once again plan for the next phase of my life and maybe even improve my writing and work on a new story.

The salty ocean air will do that to you.