Page 1 of Chasing Sunsets

Tabby

Iwake up to the soft morning light filtering through the tiny window above our bed, golden and hazy. The sweet song of our morning visitor—a little blue jay—fills the cool, crisp air in the RV. Its bright, melodious whistles and sharp, clear notes blend with the sound of the coastal breeze, causing the gauzy curtains to float above my head. I love mornings. I cherish the sounds of nature gently stirring me from sleep, as if whispering,Come see what’s waiting for you today.

I sit up, raising my arms in a stretch, my fingertips brushing against the sheer fabric, and take a deep breath. Glancing over to find the spot beside me empty, I call out, “Indigo? Baby?”

There’s no response, so I pick up my cotton robe from the floor and put it on. I then get off the bed platform and take three steps into our combined kitchen and living space to reach the door. I open it and look outside, only to find the spot where our old, beat-up Subaru wagon used to be parked is now empty.

Where could he be off to so early?

Indigo and I met at a meditation retreat during my fall break from Northwestern last year, and we quickly fell in love. He wasone of the instructors, and we felt like two twin flames, searching for deeper meaning in life. Despite my parents’ disapproval, I emptied my savings account, which contained the remainder of the money my grandmother had left me. Together, we bought a vintage 1956 Shasta 1500 travel trailer. We hitched it to the back of Indigo’s 1999 Subaru Legacy Wagon and set out on an incredible adventure down the eastern coast toward the Florida Keys. Indigo’s friend is opening a health and wellness spa there in August and offered him a job.

For a couple of months, we traveled around, finding odd jobs, communing with nature, and enjoying the freedom of the open road. Eventually, we discovered a small island off the coast of North Carolina. We’ve been here for six weeks now, and we absolutely love it, so we decided to stay through the summer.

Sandcastle Cove is a charming coastal community nestled between the Intracoastal Waterway and the Atlantic Ocean at the southern tip of the state. Accessible by two bridges connecting it to the mainland, this island feels like a hidden treasure preserved in time. Its shoreline features soft, sandy beaches that stretch on endlessly, bordered by rolling dunes.

The town is small and welcoming with weathered cottages painted in pastel colors, many of which have ocean-facing porches or decks adorned with rocking chairs. Main Street is lined with small, independent businesses, including a general market, mom-and-pop shops, boutiques, and eateries. There is no overdevelopment or high-rise hotels here. The residents are laid-back and friendly, sharing the roads with pedestrians, cyclists, and golf carts.

The best part is that nature reigns supreme here, featuring maritime forests, salt marshes, and tidal creeks, filled with herons, pelicans, and fiddler crabs. At night, the sky displays a canopy of stars, undisturbed by city lights, while the sound of waves lapping against the shore lulls you to sleep. It’sa place where time slows down and a simple life thrives—a perfect existence for those seeking peace, beauty, and a sense of community.

I step into the sunshine and take a look around. It’s late March, and local schools have started their spring breaks, so the campground is becoming lively with activity. Families are milling about, some cooking over open fires while others gather around gas grills. Children, dressed in swimsuits, are happily chasing each other as they wait for breakfast, eager to spend the day building sandcastles and playing in the cool ocean waters.

I wave to Pete, the proprietor of this small campground near The Point—the western tip of the island where the Intracoastal Waterway and the ocean meet. It’s a gathering place where residents and visitors can beach their boats, paddleboard, swim, and fish. It’s also the spot on the island where you can observe the most spectacular sunsets.

Pete makes his way over to me and says, “Good morning, Tabby. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. I was just about to start a fire and brew some coffee. Would you like to join me for a cup?” I ask.

“I’ve already had two mugs this morning, but thank you. I’m surprised to see you still here. I thought you guys were pulling up anchor,” he replies.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Pulling up anchor?”

“Yeah, Indigo came by last night to say goodbye and paid your rent through this week. He mentioned that you two were heading down the coast toward Florida,” he explains, and an uneasy feeling settles over me.

I turn back to the camper and rush inside, looking around frantically. Nothing seems out of place, so I bend down and open the cabinet that holds Indigo’s few belongings. It’s empty. Next, I reach for the drawer where we keep the lockbox that holds the few thousand dollars left of my savings, only to find it gone. In itsplace is a small piece of paper, torn from one of the pages of my journal. I pull it out and read the barely legible words scribbled on the lavender paper.

Sorry, Tabby Cat. It’s been fun, but it’s time for me to move on. Hope you have a beautiful life.

—Indy

Gutted, I collapse onto one of the bench seats at the small eat-in table as tears begin to fall.

Pete’s face appears in the doorway. “He left you,” he states. It’s not a question.

“He did,” I whisper.

His kind expression shifts to one of anger, and the floorboards creak under the weight of his large frame as he steps into the RV.

“That sorry son of a biscuit,” he says, patting me on the shoulder.

I crumple the note in my fist and take a deep breath.I guess he wasn’t my forever after all.

“Is there anything I can do?” Pete asks.

I look up and smile as I wipe my cheeks. “Can I borrow one of your bikes?” I ask.

“Sure thing. I’ll leave the three-wheeler by your picnic table,” he says.

“Thank you.”

---