Growing up, I never appreciated calling James Island home. For one, Charleston wasn’t Condé Nast’s #1 city in America at the time, but also it was all I ever knew. I was certain that there were other cities that were “better”. But as I grew older and started traveling the world I began to appreciate the town that my family had called home for over a century. It was as much a part of us as we were of it. So when I gave birth to Teagan my heart hurt a little. He would be the first person in at least SEVEN generations of my family that wouldn’t be grown up under Spanish moss-covered oaks, near saltwater, or fall asleep to the sound of cicadas on summer nights. Simply put—he wouldn’t be Lowcountry-made. I kept telling my husband “all I want is for our son to grow up with a view of the marsh”. And just like he always does for our family—my husband delivered.
Earlier this year we closed on a house less than a mile away from where I grew up + the land my great-great-grandfather purchased during Reconstruction. It won’t be our primary house, but it’s a space that the family I created will still get to call home and there’s seriously no better feeling in the world.
