Is there anything more romantic than a guest book? Those decorative journals in beach homes, mountain houses and B&Bs that record days and weeks and years of memories, thoughts, vacation highlights, and even drawings by kindred spirits from all over the world who have spent a few days in the places that we love. 
My grandparents used to own a little beach cottage at North Litchfield just south of Myrtle Beach, SC, and they would rent the place for six months out of ever year. One of my favorite things to do once it was “our turn” to be in the cottage was to go through the guest book and see who had stayed in our little pink place on Sea View Loop and to find out what they had enjoyed most – surf fishing, sand dollar hunting, crabbing, sailing, building sand castles, playing cards or just lounging on the hammock on the screen porch in the late afternoon when the breeze was best.
I remember once a few years after the home was sold, I was in college in Virginia when a friend met me on campus and said, “I stayed in your grandparent’s house last summer!” “How did you know it was theirs?” I asked.
“Because your grandmother had written all sorts of notes in the margins of the magazines, and she’d listed you and your sister’s names on the pages where she saw something she liked.”
Too funny. Small world. Magazine margins and guest books have a much farther reach than we imagine, and if you look closely enough – in vacation homes, second hand bookstores, quiet coffee shops and Good Will stores – a window into else’s existence will open for a moment giving you enough of a glimpse to know you are not alone and to send the wheels of your imagination spinning. And this, of course, is what writers love most.
Last weekend my parents, my two sisters and all of the spouses and grandkids gathered together at our favorite spot on Edisto Island to share some family fellowship. This spot doesn’t have a guest book – something I plan on changing right after this post – but if it did, here is what I would have written:
Beautiful weekend on the sound at Edisto Beach. Kids boogie boarded all day in the surf, men caught enough black drum for dinner when the tide was turning at the rocks near the state park, shrimp were full grown and hopping in the water, and – thanks to someone’s suggestion – we took enough time out to take a silly face photo of all of the little ones. We are blessed! So are you!
For more info. on Beth Webb Hart’s lowcountry novels click here
