So here are some things that come to mind about my three amazing days in Florida. Boiled peanuts. That gray-green color of the ocean, and the smell and the sound of it. Palmettos. Oysters. Sandboils. Blazing heat. Cool water. Pink tan lines. Crazy loud rap music blaring next door at 1:00 in the morning. Remembering and repeating crazy stupid rap lyrics all weekend long. Laughing about the look on face the ne'er-do-well loser (who no doubt borrowed the house for the weekend) when Mr. Man walked over and shone the flashlight in his eyes and told him to turn it down. Joe Cocker. Holding hands and walking on the beach. Long, meandering talks. Companionable silence. Listening to Led Zeppelin on the car stereo. Riding with the top down. Getting lost on the way back to the airport and almost wishing I'd miss my plane. Best omelet of my life. Tomatoes sliced and prepared Polish style. Walking to the end of the boat dock and watching the storm in the distance. Bay leaves. Abalone earrings. Iron mermaid bottle opener. Japanese glass fishing floats. Juicy oranges and dark, sweet cherries. Strong, strong coffee. Gathering pieces of bark and twigs covered with lichen. Lying on the floor, looking up through the wall of windows and sketching the branches of the pine trees with all their weird twists and angles. Being guided up the steps to the house the first time in the dark. Walking in and smelling that rustic, wood lodge scent.Being told "Don't hurt yourself." More than once. And saying it. Both in the literal and figurative (funny) senses. Testing each other's vocabularies. Farther v. further. Worm in hot ashes. Waking up from a very long nap with chenille imprinted on my legs. Blue Moon beer with orange slices. Laughing so hard that a poot slipped out. Blaming the poot on the Blue Moon beer. Arranging our food in suggestive positions. Dude poking his finger in my mouth every time I yawned. Trying not to yawn. Making new friends. My beautiful pottery coffee mug. The beautiful soul who gave it to me just because I admired it. Helping her roll up miles of visqueen plastic left on a sandy hill - no doubt an abandoned redneck slip & slide. Getting so hot and dirty doing it but feeling good about getting rid of the ugly plastic. Getting in the cool water at the sandboil to clean off. Daring dude to get in, too, even though he didn't have a swimsuit. Knowing he'd take my dare to drop trou. And that his friends wouldn't bat an eye. Really good homemade gumbo.
I could go on and on, but I'll close now with an image so beautiful, it brings tears to my eyes. The sweet manatee who swam right up to our boat. So close that we could see the propeller scars on her back. It took my breathe away. Still does.
The past is only useful if it inspires us toward right thoughts, right words, and right action in the present. Relishing pleasant moments certainly does; dwelling on negatives from the past usually doesn't. Ergo, oportet rectum ego secundum.
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