When I was a kid, I spent an entire summer on a remote island with my grandparents. The kind of place where the coastal breeze cuts through the heat and time feels like it’s standing still. I didn’t do much—ate, slept, wandered around. No grand adventures, no big stories.
And that’s exactly why I miss it. Those days of doing absolutely nothing, where life was stripped down to its essentials. Just being there, soaking it all in. And, of course, my grandma—her presence, her food, her love. That’s the part that lingers, the part you carry with you long after the summer ends.
