It is about 1:30 am on a Friday night. I am laying awake in a pitch black room in a huge king size bed starring out hurricane-resistant sliding glass doors onto an ocean surface basking in a white glow from the full moon above.

It's been 20 years since my aunt and uncle purchased the condo on Hilton Head Island - we started visiting it every summer shortly there after. Spending up to 6 weeks at a time there in the summers.



I spent weeks bike riding all over the island - appreciating my pre-driver's license independence. When I wasn't on the bike, I'd spend hours upon hours in the ocean boogy boarding.

My first trip down there alone was my senior year of high school with CJ. It was freezing. And we eventually left the condo early to go find Andrea at Sannibel Island in Florida - which I still insist is the true genesis of their relationship.

I made other trips in college with other friends including once with Nate where we pulled wave runners all the way from Indiana - which almost killed us out on the ocean (or at least that is how I tell the story now).

Jadyn was just 8 months when she made her first journey to the condo - and thus the Borgmann/Mills family vacation had begun.

Who knew two years later the condo would be the beginning of a crazy ride involving Asher's premature birth.

I have since fallen in love with shooting down there for the weekend. I find the condo is the only real place of relaxation and rejuvenation for me. Some think it is crazy I drive 4 hours each way, just for 42 hours at the condo. Frankly, I think I would go crazy if I didn't.

But why all this? After all, I am not naive to the fact that most here probably don't care about my nostalgic memories of a place I can't even call my own.

As I lay awake, one thought overcomes me: I do not have a single poor memory of time spent at the condo.

For a place where time spent is only surpassed by my childhood home - and has since outlasted said home - having such a positive place of love and joy and warmth everytime I open the door is such a huge blessing.

When everything else in life seems to be getting more chaotic and stressful and faster and meaner and out of control; having the refuge of the condo stands in stark contrast to everything else.

Allen always refers to heaven as like coming up the escalator at the airport and seeing your family members waiting for you. I find the closest analogy I have to heaven is like opening the door to the condo.

How valuable are places like that in our life. Places where all in the world could literally be collapsing, but the refuge of their safety and security is reassuring. I never realized it until this past weekend, but that place in my life is the condo.

Where is yours?