I think I get it.

Yesterday, I wasn’t sure what to make of Daufuskie Island. Today, I think I’m starting to get it. We left our condo this morning, hopped on the golf cart, and didn’t come back till after the sun set.

Within two minutes of pulling out of our driveway, we met Sallie Ann Robinson. She’s a sixth generation Gullah woman who grew up on Daufuskie. She was one of Pat Conroy’s students when he taught on the island. We talked for a few minutes and took a picture together.

I could write more, but I’m not going to. Yet. There’s so much to her story. To Pat Conroy’s story. I’ll dive into that another time. At the history museum, I bought Sallie Ann’s cookbook. It’s filled not only with recipes, but pieces of her life and stories of growing up on Daufuskie. I want to read it before I try to say much more.

I also bought a couple of activity books for the kids at home because apparently I can’t even go to a remote island without turning it into homeschool.

From there, we headed to a local BBQ spot for lunch – at, our new best friend, Sallie Ann’s, recommendation. When a sixth-generation Daufuskie local tells you where to eat, you listen. She didn’t steer us wrong. Up In Smoke was delicious!

We toured the caretaker’s house at the Bloody Point Lighthouse, which is now a museum, and visited the winery before eventually finding ourselves on Bloody Point Beach.

Heaven.

People we didn’t even know offered us their chairs. Everyone here is kind. Not “we work in tourism so we’re supposed to be nice to you” kind. Just kind. We’ve experienced it over and over again.

We drove the golf cart around the island with no urgency. No agenda. We explored Turtle Beach. We saw beautiful homes that have been affected by erosion, which was super sad.

The island forces you to live like a local.

There really isn’t a tourist version of Daufuskie. That’s the gift. Yesterday, I kept noticing everything that wasn’t here. No streetlights. No commercialized downtown. No shiny welcome center when you step off the ferry. No rows of shops and restaurants waiting for tourists. Today, I started noticing everything that is. Mostly, people.

We met Jen and Joe, a lovely couple who have been coming to the island for several years. They’re staying in Joe’s boss’ house just down the road from us. We ran into our next-door neighbor Randy again, this time with a group of his buddies who’d come to visit. So, so nice. And then there’s Jamie, the bartender at the Crab House. Jamie’s favorite niece is named Andrea. So naturally, he loves me. I don’t make the rules. 😉

At some point today I told Pam and Darcia: If you’re coming here for commercialism, don’t. If you’re coming to slow down and breathe in another culture, get here yesterday.

You have to come willing to listen. To learn. To understand that you’re a visitor in a place where families and stories and traditions existed long before your golf cart came bumping down the road. Literally bumping, because most of the roads aren’t paved. I will most likely return home with a Grade 1 concussion.

By early evening, we decided to chase the sunset. We Googled the best place to watch it. It sent us straight back to the Crab House where we’d eaten dinner the night before. So back we went. I’m not even going to try to describe the sunset. The picture can do that.

We finally headed home, after spending the entire day roaming this island.

Yesterday, I told you Daufuskie looked abandoned when we arrived.

I was wrong.

It isn’t empty at all. It’s full of history. Full of stories. Full of people who offer you their Adirondack chairs, tell you where to eat, introduce you to friends, share pieces of their lives and make you feel welcome even though you’ll likely never see them again.

Yesterday, I was wondering: Where is everything? Today, I realized it was all here I just didn’t know what I was looking at.

Maybe that’s Daufuskie. Maybe you have to stop looking for what isn’t here long enough to see what is.

I think I’m starting to get it.

And we still have two more days!

*Disclaimer: Nanny isn’t with me, so these posts aren’t edited. Y’all know I write how I talk, so I apologize. I assure you Nanny is DYING as she reads these*