“It's interesting to me that when I reflect on childhood vacations to Hilton Head Island I rarely think of the beach. Instead I remember the treehouse my parents rented with it's triangular rooms and metal spiral staircase. How my sister and I spent hours biking along sandy trails- paying extra attention to sunning snakes and briars in the tall grass. How the triangular metal slide would burn your palms as you scrambled to the top and how the tree branches hung so close to the ground you could practically walk right into them. I remember how the sun burned our shoulders as we rollerbladed in shorts, bathing suits, and a hilarious amount of protective gear thanks to our mom's insistence, and how the air always tasted like salt.
Fragmented memories punctuated with laughter and the scents of Coppertone.”
-Courtney Khail