Doug & I like to drive along the main road through Holden Beach, laughing at the names of the houses.
Worker’s Compensation, Holden Aces, & Holden Peach are some of our favorites.
The sun-warmed wind blows through the windows & I let my fingers brush through the salt air. I ask Doug what he’d name a beach house & he laughs that deep belly laugh that I love so well. “In It To Win It,” he says without hesitation. “As in, the only way we’d get a beach house is to be in the lottery & you have to be in it to win it.”
I giggle, my feet up on the dashboard & last month’s chipped pedicure wiggling with the beat of the radio. I twirl the diamond ring on my finger that he put there exactly eight years ago this week.
We pass one that is bank-owned & an unloved brown color & my dreams take me five years down the road to where it’s a lovely light blue with a front swing & a bright green living room. I picture us welcoming family with open arms and bowls of steaming corn on the cob and that feeling of sand at the bottom of your sheets every night.
Maybe one day.