So how did I end up here?
My husband and I visited Charleston for my cousin Michael’s wedding on a unseasonably warm weekend in March. We hadn’t packed for the 80-degree weather, so our first stop was King Street for clothes shopping. Pastel-painted brick and stucco store facades lined the quaint cobblestone street. It was way more magical than a massive mall.
That afternoon, we attended an oyster roast hosted by the bride-to-be’s uncle. You may have seen Thomas Ravenel’s plantation home featured on Bravo’s “Southern Charm.” Would Rhett Butler show up? I’ve come to realize oyster roasts are the South’s version of a Philly beef and beer.
The next day we toured the Aiken-Rhett House Museum built in 1820. Historic homes are my thing and Charleston cheerfully defies the space-time continuum. One minute you’re in 1716 and the next minute you’re right back to now.
Michael and Sarah’s rehearsal dinner was held at McCrady’s – famous for celebrity chef Sean Brock’s innovative style. Yum. The nuptials took place the following day at the French Huguenot Church. Charleston’s nickname is the Holy City, but in a town filled with churches, this one stands out. It’s pink!
The reception at the Carolina Yacht Club was a fantastic blur of fun. The next day, my husband and I recuperated at the dream-like Magnolia Plantation. Its misty swamps guarded by Cypress tress (and gators), gorgeous gardens and ethereal Spanish moss-draped oak trees left me wanting to write a novel — or at least a ghost story. I wanted…no I needed…to live here. My husband agreed.
But we wanted to be sure. Over the next few summers, we enjoyed week-long family vacations at nearby Folly Beach. Days were filled with breakfasts at the Lost Dog Cafe, kayaking, dinners with the dolphins on Shem Creek, fishing, the South Carolina Aquarium and visiting with good friends who had recently moved to Mount Pleasant, just minutes from downtown Charleston.
We felt like we were leaving home every time we drove back North on I-95. It was decided.
Both of us were born and raised in the same Philadelphia suburb. It was difficult to move away, but we’ve given family and friends a fabulous place to visit. While my son misses cheese steaks, he is good with cheese grits. My daughter attends college at Penn State, but has a sweet spring break and summer spot.
It was the right move. I know this as I sink my toes in the sand and watch the waves crash — on a random Wednesday lunch break. Ahhh….
This is life “On Parkers Landing” and I’d love for you to stop by these pages as often as you can.
