There's something about living on this island that can't be described to an outsider. You have to experience it for yourself. I know that "it" exists because, over the years, it's been mentioned in passing by so many other people, it just can't be denied. It's not tangible. You have to feel it. It happens every time an islander crosses that bridge that leads to home. It's a feeling of calm, a feeling of serenity, of knowing that you've come home to Amelia and, once again, on "island time".
Maybe it has something to do with the way the darkness separates itself from the light every morning when the sun rises over the ocean. It could be the glorious sunsets viewed from a rocking chair next to the river. Possibly, it's the friendly greeting from a total stranger while walking on Centre Street. Or, it could be from the knowledge that we are all in this together, and can be cut off from the outside world if those bridges disappear.
I don't know too many places where you can watch the "boys" (a line of pelicans straight as an arrow) swooping over the surf every night regular as clockwork or patrol the beach in the twilight of morning looking for sea turtle nests. There's nothing like the taste of shrimp freshly caught and purchased from the captain of a shrimp boat just back from the catch, or the sight of a friendly Manatee basking in the fresh water of the run-off at the river. There's nothing like the story of the Island of Eight Flags to warm your heart with tales of conquest and survival. There's nothing like the marsh grass, the Spanish moss hanging from the oak trees, the gentle breeze or warm hearted people. No, there's nothing quite like my island home!