Slightly South of Simple (Peachtree Bluff, #1)

by Kristy Woodson Harvey

Sometimes you don’t know how empty your fridge—or your heart—can be. You don’t realize it, that is, until at long last, you find them full again.

always taught my girls that they didn’t need a man to save them. They needed to be able to save themselves.

Yes!

The humidity wrapped around me and clung to my skin like a toddler who didn’t want to be left at preschool.

Good simile

Everyone used to call Sloane and me either two peas in a pod or trouble. Both were equally accurate.

But then Adam, Jr.—who everyone called AJ—said, “Carowine,” with those sticky hands reached out to me, and he couldn’t help but melt your heart.

The views were by far the best part of this beautiful home. It seemed you could see forever from this front porch. Across the water, three wild horses roamed amid the sea oats, their hooves splashing in the tide.

I can close my eyes and see this view.

I couldn’t control my control issue, ironically. Besides, she didn’t get it. I did these things out of love. I was very misunderstood.

I was staring out over the water at the moon painting a luminescent trail from Starlite Island right up to what looked like Grandmother’s front door.

His job didn’t matter. His money didn’t matter. If he told me he was quitting everything to move to a hut in Uruguay and minister to the sick, I would have packed my bag and bought a Bible.

It was certainly nice to have this house filled with little voices and even smaller feet. So sure, there were wet towels on the floors and toothpaste stuck to the sinks and diapers filling the garbage and crumbs everywhere. But it was wonderful all the same.

“I think sometimes you’re so busy looking toward the top of the ladder you forget how many rungs you have already climbed.”

When Vivi was born, I almost wished part of it away. I was so tired. I was so overwhelmed and consumed with the care of this person that I didn’t savor it like I should have.

I can relate to this.

But the majesty and power of the ocean, roaring to the beach and then retreating, was a surprise every time. It never got old. And it never ceased to remind me that the world was large and, in the scheme of things, my problems were nothing.