Although my parents usually stole away at some point during the summer for their anniversary, the whole family jetted away on vacation together only once a year. Around the sun- filled month of July, my family finally began its trek toward Mexico Beach, FL, located near bustling Port Saint Joe. The drive to our vacation destination was filled with many non-eventful hours of pasture, sometimes broken with a rare sighting of some cattle or horses. As the drive began to come to a close, though, the scenery changed into a densely-forested area, which hid a military Air Force base. The only clues that the base was located there at all were an occasional "Keep Out – Bomb Disposal Area" sign or the ear-splitting sound of jets doing touch-and-go's. Line after mind-numbing line of pine trees all in a row sped by as we conquered one mile after another.
Suddenly, the trees stop, and it was as if we had entered a totally different world altogether. Trees ended, and a virtual door opened. Before we could blink, we began to ascend toward the sky on the first of many tall, cloud-touching bridges that connected the mainland to the peninsulas and capes spread out along Florida's vast coastline. The bridge seemed to rise forever as we crossed from Saint George Island to Mexico Beach. As we rode over that initial bridge, our first glimpse of the stunning ocean was revealed to us. The sunlight danced its rays over the waves as we made our way across the bridge. Diamonds glistened on the water as the waves capped. Low oyster boats dotted the water like polka dots, as the oystermen hauled in the day's catch. All the boats consisted of a little square hut, placed upon a raft that looked like it could barely float on the water, much less withstand the waves that beat against it. Because of the large number of them, I could easily decipher where the oyster beds lie, where thousands of oysters made their homes.
