Hiding Away

Oh goodness. Here it is my anniversary and where is my husband?
He's fishing at the Sebastian Inlet with my blessing.

The difference between men and women:
Yesterday we were walking on the beach and a stiff wind was blowing against us and the sea was rough and the sky was gray and I was loving it! I was dancing with the wind, prancing with the day, skipping through the surf, holding my hands up into the air to feel all of the wind I could feel. I was thinking of Lynn and how she would have loved this and of all the times I'd walked this beach as a child and of my grandfather and how he would get up before dawn to walk on the beach and how he'd pay my brother and me to find him cat's eye shells and I was in a glorious, heavenly place.

All of a sudden, Mr. Moon opened his mouth and spoke:
"They say the pompano are biting in the surf."

He was thinking of fishing.
Of course.
I love that man.

Anyway, I'm about to go take a walk. I feel slovenly and lazy. I got up at six to watch the sunrise over the Atlantic and it was amazing. The clouds parted in the darkness and the silvery hook of a moon appeared, sharp and clear as anything I've ever seen and the sky eventually lightened and became pink and I watched a plane fly across the sky, blinking, blinking, blinking, as the surf rolled and hissed and pounded the shore.

Then I went back to bed and slept for two more hours.

Yesterday we went to the bar in the picture above down in Sebastian. As a child, Earl's Hideaway held more than a little mystery for me. "Hideaway" was where the bad cowboys went after they robbed the stagecoach. Why, I wondered, didn't the police just go there to catch the criminals? As I sat at a table yesterday, I was still wondering that because surely, at least a few of the folks there are wanted for something although the bikers I eavesdropped on were discussing their cholesterol levels and blood pressure medication so maybe not.

We drove down to Roseland yesterday, too, and my spirits dipped a bit when we left. I believe that in my heart I always thought I'd end up there, beside the river. We drove down the river road in Sebastian and everywhere I looked, there were memories. I realize that this place, this area, was filled with the most magic I ever experienced in my life, and I do love it. It wasn't necessarily the type of magic that is conjured or manipulated or surreal. It was the sort of magic made up of water and jungle and long days of kids playing. It was fishing for catfish off the dock and playing marbles in the dirt road and pretending Tarzan in the woods. It was wild mangoes, sticky and tasting of turpentine, tangerine trees in every yard, and always that slow-moving mucky river, flowing past like a dream of pirates, of treasure, of too many secrets to ever know.

I miss it but I am lucky to be able to come back and enter the mysterious again. Luckier than that, I lived it as a child.

Love from a Magical Place....Ms. Moon