My Girl (Four Months In)

Monday morning found us gathered once again in the campground hall as the week unfolded—pool workouts, tours, crafts, games, potlucks, and the easy rhythm of a place where people show up simply to enjoy where they are. It felt familiar now. Not routine—rooted.

Later, the winds had their say, turning our outdoor dinner plans into an indoor improvisation. So salmon and wild rice came together quietly in the air fryer, a small reminder that good things don’t need perfect conditions—just flexibility and the right company.

Four months into Port Isabel, the lyrics of My Girl still drift back:

I’ve got so much honey
The bees envy me.

And it’s still true.

Not because of the location—but because of who I’m with.

So much of my writing over the past few years keeps returning to this same truth: peace isn’t found in big moments, but in presence. A Season in the Sun grew out of days like this. Stillness in the Storm was shaped by learning that calm doesn’t depend on the weather. No Grapes in Grateful exists because gratitude deepens when life doesn’t go exactly as planned.

I don’t need money, fortune, or fame.
I’ve got all the riches one man can claim.

A woman who laughs when plans change.
A place that teaches us to slow down.
Friends who become family.
Days that don’t need to be rushed to matter.

If you asked me what makes me feel this way—

It’s still the same answer.