Back To This Reality

That was the picture I took this morning when I was leaving the sweet cabana house. I love that courtyard. I love everything about the way Glenn has mixed jungle and civilization and cherished the old in such a way that every turn, every step, is an experience of interesting lushness.

So yes, we are home. We drove home with a not insignificant coconut palm in the back seat. 

Glenn gave it to me. It's been babied from a coconut that sprouted some years ago down by the river where a huge coconut palm drops its coconuts. I am so thrilled to have it. I am going to baby it myself and it will become part of my very own, very small Roseland garden with mangos, the sea grapes, the traveler's palm. He also brought us a good chunk of cake his husband baked and I can't wait to taste it. 

But you know what the best thing Glenn gives me is? 

His hugs. I hug him so tightly and he he hugs me back just that hard. 

The drive home was fine. I had finished reading the book we'd started on our way up to NC last summer and had brought along "The Yearling," the book by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. I have probably read this book at least ten times throughout my life and I know I've read it out loud to Glen once. But as soon as I started reading it, the beauty of MKR's writing enfolded both of us again. Her ability to describe Florida's wildlife along with the lives of the people who settled in some of the wildest parts of the state is absolutely unparalleled by anyone else. And the way she captures character and writes dialogue is a dream for someone who loves to read out loud.
I could go on for days but I will not. I'm tired. I'll just say that Glen loves the book too. 
Every time I read it, I am reminded once again of how I felt as a child growing up in a fairly wild part of Florida and how much that has influenced me throughout my life. That appreciation of nature, of the wildlife, of the people who, for some damn reason, decided that this wild, often-cruel land was where they wanted to be above all other places. 

Since I've been home I've of course felt I had to unpack everything, put everything in its place, start laundry, and make...a...soup.

Oh my lord. See- here I am, back again, judging myself on what I have done that was constructive. 
I do not like this Mary as much as I do the Mary I have been the past week, just taking each moment as it came, enjoying each of those moments for exactly what they were. 
And you know what? I did laundry there. I did cook meals there. I made the bed. I tidied up. I did dishes and even grocery shopping. But none of it seemed to be a burden. It was just...life. 

Here's what I was seeing out of the car window as we drove north on Highway 1. 

That is the Indian River which is part of the intracoastal waterway which was the other river I loved as a child. 
Two rivers, an ocean. Jungles. 

I think Maurice is glad we're home. I know we'll be glad to get into our big beautiful bed tonight. The duck will be involved. It's supposed to get down to 44 degrees tomorrow morning. 

Sigh. 

We're home. Or, we are at my other home to be more honest.

Love...Ms. Moon