Ah-yah. I can't get moving here today. The kids (some of the kids, the grandkids too) are coming out and we're all going to drive down to St. Marks and put the boat in and ride down the river.
Just for a short ride.
We're not even sure if it's legal to take a month-old (almost) infant in a boat. Do they make infant life-jackets?
Mr. Moon is looking that up right now on the internet.
"I'll save him if we do down," he said the other day when we were first talking about this jaunt.
I'm pretty sure he would.
Sundays and boats are a volatile mixture for me sometimes. Sundays were the days my stepfather often abused me and THEN we'd go to church and THEN we'd go out on the boat.
A perfect family!
But this won't be like that at all. Not one bit. Now I'm an old MeeMaw or, Mer-Mer, as we say around here and the company on the boat shall be my own dear children and a few dear friends of theirs and ours and I'll get to smooch on the baby and Mr. Moon will let Owen help him steer the boat and Lily will crack me up and so will Hank and truly, the St. Marks is as pretty a river as you can imagine and it'll be easy-peasy, up the river past the marina, the restaurant. We'll see birds, maybe, and lots of gorgeous trees and the paths from docks up to houses hidden in those trees and fantasize about what it would be like to live on the river and we'll pass other boats and they will pass us and we'll wave.
Howdy, river neighbor!
I remember one time we took a mother and a daughter from UP NORTH out on the river and we stopped at Ouzt's which is an oyster/biker bar and we walked into the bar after we'd tied up at their dock and the daughter saw the giant Confederate flag on the wall with Hank Williams, Jr.'s face centered right in the middle of it and she walked back out and went back to the boat.
Well. Culture shock. What are you going to do?
I was proud of the mama. She drank beer and ate smoked mullet and oysters and tapped her foot to the music of the guys who were playing their guitars and I'm sure she had a story to take back with her. The daughter probably did too. She was a protest singer and she may have even written a song about it.
If so, I sure hope I never hear it.
Life is different on the river. Life is different in the south. Life is different when you're a grown-up.
Nothing is perfect.
Well, the river itself.
Ouzt's burned down and they rebuilt it. I don't think they still have a Confederate flag, with or without Hank Williams Jr.'s face on it. They still have music on Sundays though. And bikers. And beer. And smoked mullet and raw oysters.
We won't be stopping there today. We'll just keep on going. Floating down the river. The perfect, in and of itself river.
I better get moving. It's Sunday and I don't want to contemplate anything any deeper than that river. The sweet pleasure of being out on the water on a Sunday, untormented by anything at all beyond the mosquitoes, which hopefully, will leave us alone.