ABSTRACT
My aunt had given me her beach house at Sullivan’s Island a couple of years before she died, and we spent most of the late spring and summer months there. As we both had numerous younger relatives, there were island guests most summers. Our two families were like one big happy family, and, while nothing was ever talked about as to our sexuality, we were sure that the older relatives understood our relationship. We kept the beach house until 1983, when it had become a burden because of the large yard which required frequent mowing and the house that began to need painting and repairs. We sold it, without regret, always looking forward rather than backward.
