sand

My sisters and I started something a few years ago, and it has developed into a delightful little semi-tradition. I say semi because we know it won’t happen every year (it hasn’t), and it won’t last forever. But I say tradition because, even in its off-and-on state, it may continue for years to come. It’s the kind of thing we can pull out of our back pockets and claim allegiance to.

On the Fast of Esther, we drive to the beach. We’re a little over three hours from the coast, so it’s basically a choice between which beach we want to grace with our presence. And even that isn’t a choice because the answer is obvious: Myrtle Beach has the *Tanger Outlets*. And on a day when you aren’t eating anything, what’s not to love about shopping? What a way to take your mind off an empty stomach.

Last time, it was me and my oldest and youngest sisters. It was a bitter day with wind like a knife and cold that congealed the very marrow in your bones. We had intended to stay the night at one of the resorts, but due to the decline of American youth, no one under the age of 21 can stay in a Myrtle Beach resort unless accompanied by a parent or legal guardian. Being thus harshly turned away, regardless of our innocence and naivete, we used up the rest of the day with shopping and walking two piers-worth on the blustery beach.

And so the tradition was born.

This year, our middle sister came, too, so it was all four of us. It’s quite the treat to enjoy a full day with the sisters with whom you grew up after getting married and leaving the nest. We laughed and chatted – just like old times! And the shopping was good and the beach was pleasant.

We wanted to be home in time to break the fast with our family and husbands – it was close, but we made it.

And we agreed that it was a lovely time, and should be repeated. But will it be next year? Who can say what will happen between now and then? That’s why we play it by ear. 🙂

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