“Have you ever heard a grown man snore,” my husband asked as he finished his beer and ate his buttermilk fried chicken sandwich stuffed with pimento cheese during our Christmas getaway to Charleston, South Carolina. Many a times, I thought to myself but just smiled. In that instant, a flash of our activities from the last 4 days there played back in my mind-the food, the touring around, the people and the memories of capturing it all together as a middle-aged couple who loves to travel.
Charleston is a small southern city in the ‘low country’ as the locals call it, with great southern hospitality, yummy comfort food and that “small town feel”. There were shops abound, a variety of foods with pimento cheese being my personal favorite and oysters on the half shell being his, as well as the hopes of coming home still healthy during Covid times.
While we had a wonderful time, we headed home early because we’d had enough of staying in a hotel, blustering sidewalks of double wide strollers and crowds of people, overcrowded sites and eating restaurant food. Somehow, I think during this trip, as charming as this town was, we still valued the feeling of our hometown, our pets who we consider our children, sleeping in our own bed and the feeling of our favorite local eatery pouring down our favorite drink without asking 2 blocks from our house. Some things can’t be described and shouldn’t need to be. It’s just a feeling. It’s called home.