Sunlight shines on the bay waters of the Texas Gulf Coast in a unique way. I took the longer route down the coast whenever I could, eschewing the faster interstate for the smaller highways and roads, weaving my way south past nearby smaller towns like Lake Jackson, Bay City, Palacios, and Tivoli.

Each bay I greeted like an old friend, the almost-empty causeway of each leading me as a white arrow across glittering water toward home. Almost home, and I could pause for a moment on the ferry ride at Port Aransas, straining to find dolphins surfacing in the ship channel.

Down the narrow barrier of Mustang Island, sand surrounding me on both sides, with tantalizing glimpses of water, I would head for the big bridge arching over the Laguna Madre, leaving Padre Island behind for the peninsula of Flour Bluff.

So many memories! The father-son cattle drive that stopped me north of Palacios, the foolishness of driving fast down a two-lane eating fat hamburger in one hand, the pair of dolphins with a baby dolphin between swimming up the channel, the Dairy Queens in small towns, each with their congregation of older men or of teenagers, depending on the time of day. And the time I slowed on an empty bridge over marshland to gawk at two ibis flying overhead… to only catch sight, a few minutes later, of the police officer behind me.

To this day, I still lean into a brisk wind and miss that saltwater scent of the coast.