Charlie and I are back in Savannah! We always ask for the same room in the same bed-and-breakfast. We always eat at Clary’s. We always take the Dolphin Magic boat ride. We’ve never lived here, but these trips to Savannah always feel like a homecoming.

Even the train rides here and back are fun. On one recent trip we decided to fly home rather than board a train at the ungodly hour of 6:40 AM. The trek through Atlanta Airport to our connecting flight turned out to be an ordeal, and we both decided that maybe getting up early wasn’t so bad after all. So on this trip we’ll be having breakfast on the train – maybe lunch too.

I find it odd that I – a big-city girl at heart – love this small Southern city so much. I can imagine myself living here, walking through Forsyth Park every morning, strolling down to the Riverfront to watch the container ships cruising back and forth, and then stopping at Leopold’s afterwards for ice cream. I wonder if the people who really do live in Savannah know how lucky they are.

* * * * * *

Writers need to be experts at switching identities. The mature me can look at Savannah with wise eyes and appreciate its history and charm – and my inner Peter Pan can have a wonderful time watching the container ships traveling back and forth along the Savannah River.

It was a delightful surprise to find out that my 84-year-old ballet teacher loves Savannah as much as I do. We were chatting and comparing notes, and I expected her to say something about Savannah’s beautiful parks and fascinating history.

“I like to watch the container ships,” was her comment. Seems she’s been able to keep in touch with her inner Peter Pan too. Good for her – and  good for us.

(Incidentally, she’s a terrific writer.)