We're home and mostly unpacked although I barely had an hour here before I had to be at the Opera House for a Stage Company meeting and then a rehearsal. And it was our Judy's birthday and Kathleen brought a cake and although Judy hates being recognized on her birthday, I was most grateful for cake.
Actually, I am most grateful for Judy.
It's nice to be home. I got up last night to pee and despite the fact that our room was comfortable and the bed was fine, it occurred to me that I have now reached the age where I truly like to sleep in my own bed. As if I needed another reason to stay home...
Mr. Moon got up before I did this morning and went over to the lot and finished up his work there. We have a huge pile of palm fronds for the city to pick up bordering our property. Several neighbors stopped by while we were working and I did enjoy talking to them. One of them told me that it's a wonderful community in Apalachicola and that she has just jumped in and "joined everything" and I shuddered inside.
I am not a joiner.
I do think it is a wonderful community though. Last night I was on the balcony outside our room and a man on the sidewalk below on crutches fell and he lost his shoes and his hat and I heard him say, "God damn. Shit." And I could tell he was very drunk but before I could get downstairs to help him up, a car had stopped and someone who knew him had gotten out to help him. Some people may point to civic organizations as indications of a good community and I will not disagree with them but somehow, that man stopping to help the inebriated soul on the sidewalk so quickly seems to show true caring and heart.
Maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe I've just spent more time on the dark side of the street in my days.
Anyway, we're home. Mr. Moon is out cutting up his deer and I have some mullet to cook for our supper that we bought on our way home in Panacea. I've got laundry going and there's so much I should be doing and I will, I will. When I come home from Aplachicola, I don't feel that re-entry, different-universe thing. It feels as if I have gone from one home to another. We ate breakfast this morning at the El Jalisco, the bustling Mexican restaurant in Eastpoint where you can get a bang-up American breakfast. I had a Spanish omelet and it was full of jalepenos and I felt, with my hashbrowns and whole-wheat toast as if I was straddling two worlds and they were both very, very good. It was a beautiful drive home, the water to our right, the pine forests to our left and we saw a bob cat cross the road when we were getting close to home. He bounded across the road and slipped into the scrub and disappeared from sight.
I love Florida. I love the coastal waters and the rivers and the people who fish them. I love the way it somehow feels as if we were still on the edge of something here. At least, in certain places. A sort of wild frontier feeling still exists and yes, there are people who have been trying to tame it for hundreds of years and yet, the mullet still jump, the oysters still bed, the deer and the bear and the bobcats still roam and the bald eagles and osprey and hawks still rule the skies. I am so grateful to live here, right on the edge of it all.
I better get busy.
Y'all have a good night.