Hilton Head Island by Grace Meyer


Ever since I was four, I’ve called Hilton Head Island my home. True, I was born in Shaker Heights, but my vacations there have stolen a big part of my heart. From renting condos and houses in August and during Thanksgiving, I grew fond of the island off the coast of South Carolina.

When I was with my cousins, we did everything: sunbathed on the beach, spent long afternoons in the blue glass pool, zip-lined, etc. The only downside is that the shells are by no means collectible (they are smaller than a teaspoon), but we kept ourselves busy easily.

The best time of day was in the middle of the day or early evening when the sun rays bless my face on a bike ride, sometimes alone, sometimes with one of my cousins or my mom. Once in a while I would pass by a house my family rented when I was younger and memories would resurface. One time my cousin Maddie and I biked through a neighborhood and looked at the super nice houses (mansions, probably). Afterwards, biking on the beach is the best feeling when the sun sets and the wind whistles through and knots into my hair. I still have a Salty Dog sweatshirt that I most likely wore on a pitch black night, eating ice cream near the dock.

My family and I have tons of fun once we’re there, but my favorite parts are the moments leading up to it. After renting a car from the airport and beginning the drive to Sea Pines, I put my headphones on and watch the palm trees breeze by my window. The weather has gotten warmer by this point, and I am getting super excited to arrive. Once we get there, because our rental house isn’t ready yet, we can go to The Salty Dog or the beach club to get a bite. It’s always nice when the temperature is warmer than twenty degrees and there is no snow in sight. Cheers.

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