Return

Well. We're home.
And instead of it being 7:52 p.m. it is 8:52 p.m. and fuck that shit.
Arrrgggh.
So speaking of pirates, my own personal pirate coconut-head boyfriend was waiting for me when we got back to the island. He's a bit gap-toothy but so I am. I just love that jaunty ring in his ear, don't you?

Anyway, the trip over in the Winky II went just fine and there I was with my orange clown hair so it was fitting and Jessie and Vergil were at the dock when we got there, both of them with their long legs and hugs and help and we got the old jeep loaded up and headed to the house and it was just as it always is- smelling of Dog Island and old wood and fried fish and that iron/sulfur water and it was nice to be back.

I immediately went out back and took a picture. This is the bay shot through the old bloom of the aloe plants that our friend Tom, with whom we share the house, has planted.

We unloaded groceries and put things away and made up our bed and I just had to take this shot:

Is Mr. Moon like the cutest guy in the world?
Yes. Yes he is.

Vergil stole my heart by making us shrimp quesadillas and before I knew it, gin and tonics were being poured and mixed and served and we ate lunch and okay, I had to have a nap. Wouldn't you?

We got up just as the sun was setting but Lord, it was cold and I took a few quick pictures and then ran back inside.
Here's one.

And Mr. Moon grilled steaks and oh, honeys, the whole weekend went like that.
Eat, drink, sleep, eat, drink, sleep.
Read.
Walk.
Again. Repeat. Shower, rinse, repeat again.

And read. Read, read, read.
I started and finished My Family And Other Animals and was completely charmed. Ah- the days when a ten-year old boy is set free on a Greek island (or any island, for that matter) to roam with his dog and spend hours and days and weeks on his belly looking at life close-up as it is lived under a leaf, under a rock, under the sea. Lo- thank-you so much. I loved it. As you knew I would.

On Friday I walked for maybe an hour or so on the Gulf and it was a time of complete peace. No headphones in, no one beside me, just me and my legs and my bare feet and miles of white Gulf beach. I was accompanied by birds and the sea was flat and there were great pools of coquinas, perhaps mating, who knows? not me? and I did not have my camera to catch that. It was a mindful and grateful a time as I have had in recent memory.

The sunset that night was not was accompanied by a Nor'Easter and so we walked on the bay a bit to enjoy it.

Two men I really love. Vergil, after stealing my heart with those quesadillas, continued to do so all weekend. He is the sort of man you would want to fall in love with your daughter and he treats her with respect and humor and he is smart and can cook and cleans up and well, yeah. That boy is FINE! And Jessie knows it. And now, so do we.

So do we.
He feels like family.

Here's our little house in the light of the setting sun:

We took a bay-side walk the next morning and the funny thing about our walks is always this- we say, "Let's just go walk for a few minutes,"


and we all agree to do so and we start out, one foot in front of the other and we study the water and we check out whatever has been washed in.


Are there sea slugs? Is there bait fish? Are there horseshoe crabs? How much sand has been washed away here? Do you think that there is more sand here than there was before? Oh look- there's an osprey nest! Or is it an eagle nest?

And look! Fiddler crabs! And come on, let's just keep going until we reach that place where the creek comes out....


and before you know it, we've walked for an hour and then there's an hour's walk back but what do we care? What else is there to do?

What else?

Eat. Rest. Drink. Read.

Yes, we danced a bit.
We laughed a lot.
There was fishing. There was a great deal of cuddling.

There was Kathleen on the phone. Her ex-husband had died and she was with him when he did.

Ah. Well. Too much to say, too much to feel.
"He has no problems anymore," I told her. So lame. What more could I say? She there, me on the island.
"I love you. I am so proud of you for helping him go. You did a good job."

We came home today and the truck got broke-down on the side of the road and there we were in the middle of the worst n0-see-ums in the world but so what? We lived. Mr. Moon fixed the truck. We come home and I find that there has been a huge devastation in Japan.

Ah-lah. This world. It never ends, does it?

Well. I had a weekend. Some of it was perfect and some of it was hard but Lord let me tell you, there was love.

And here we are, back again. Chickens all present and accounted for. Tomorrow I will take my mother to get a molar removed. Freddy wants to film something this week. Can I play a grandmother who is dying of cancer?

"Give me a script," I tell him. "I can do it."

And on Wednesday, Owen will be here.
"Meir-Meir!" he will say and maybe, if I am lucky, "Ah-yah."

I went to the island. I came home. The dogs peed on my suitcase. I am doing laundry. We have Sprung Ahead.

We are here.

I have missed you. I have found myself and sometimes that was wonderful. I have learned to love someone that my daughter loves. Truly and fully-hearted.

I wonder what it is like on the island right now. Is the wind blowing? Is the Gulf flat or rolling? Are the osprey tucked up in their nests?

But oh, Lord. I am so happy to be here. When we pulled into Lloyd I breathed a sigh of deep relief. This is where I live. There is where I belong. There is where I am so grateful to be with my chickens at roost and my peas growing up and my bed, my bed, my very own bed where I sleep with my love and my least dog and where I can get my hands on all of my children should I need to. Where the oaks are so tall and so wide and so old, where the wisteria is beginning to bloom.
This is where my work is, my loves are, my garden is. This is where the dirt is from which I gather my strength.

All right. More tomorrow. Sweet dreams tonight. I have missed you.

This is my life and you are part of it.

Thank-you. Amen. Good night.