Trip To Lake Miccosukee

We napped and never did get around to eating lunch. When we got up, Mr. Moon started up the Cutlass and filled up a flat tire and washed it off. It's been sitting too long in the garage. It was time to take it out for a ride.


That old car just goes. Big stupid wonderful American engine. It eats up the road.

We drove down backroads where there are old plantations, double-wides, single-wides and block houses. And oak trees. And sky. And pines.

On our drive we remembered what a beautiful place in which we live. It was a drive of tires-down-roads-we-know-and-still-marvel at. Both literally and metaphorically as we held hands over the gears. I couldn't help but turn around, take a picture of where we'd been.

We drove down country roads and ended up down at a very under-used park on Lake Miccosukee. We parked the car and got out. I said, "Doesn't that just look like an advertisement for the Great American Vehicle?" It did.

On the path down to the lake we came upon a guy coming up out of the woods. He was young, wearing camo, skinny, with a knife on his belt. Tattooed. I saw a hawk feather tucked into his belt. I relaxed. We nodded heads and said, "Hey. How you doin'?"

We walked out onto the dock and it was water-mirrored, cypress-ringed.

The wind was blowing the beards of Spanish Moss.

There were coots on the water.

We held each other and talked. I told my husband that I was sorry for the way I've been lately. That demons have been haunting me. That I have no idea whether things come up that I remember now and have never remembered before or if I am creating them or what. That I don't know how it happens or why. He just held me and said, "I understand. Well, no I don't."
I love that man so much.

There was a great white bird, fishing.

The moon was up and starting to show its face.

We talked and we laughed and we listened to the wind and the cypress trees held their peace.

We were alone. We held our hands up together and compared our old skins. We agreed that our hands are still capable of a lot of strength and tenderness too. It was good.

We drove home and the sun was growing low.


We crossed Highway 90 and Mr. Moon had to, HAD TO gun it a little.




Ah-lah. Gotta live life a bit fast sometimes.

We came into Lloyd to where the truck stop is.

We took a right down our own road.

Home again.
I'm cooking chicken and pineapple. Owen will be here tomorrow. An owl is calling. Jessie is coming home tomorrow for a few days. Home.

That man. He loves me. Even though demons haunt me and threaten me into immobility sometimes. He holds me whole. He drives me fast down cool oak-lined roads. He takes me to the water. He heals me with his hands. He delivers me unto our home.

I would not be here if not for him.

There is no doubt about that.