Maurice kept me company all night and I slept late and now I mostly need to take things out of my suitcase and get on the road for Gator Bone.
You know, it will be amazing to be somewhere for four days where I won't have to think about things like Republicans who have refused to make even the most sane and basic changes in the gun laws of this country.
I will miss my family and my little world and my chickens and my garden but I won't miss the insanity of the constant barrage of news I allow myself to be exposed to.
It's incredibly hard to believe that a week ago today I had no idea I'd be packing up to leave on a journey which was going to have Havana, Cuba as its destination. Right now all I need to do is take a shower, pack up my every-day toiletries, pick out what little jewelry and make-up I am taking, and load it all in the car.
I've filled up the chicken waterers and will make Mr. Moon a list of what needs to be done around here. Not much. He mostly just needs to feed himself, the cats, the chickens. Maybe water the porch plants next weekend. Pick the beans that need picking.
Remember how much I love him. Take care of himself.
Until I get back to do that for him.
The other day when Owen was here, I told him that in Cuba, Lis was going to be playing in a club where Mick Jagger had been a few months ago and that I would be going with her there. A little while later I was telling him about something from my childhood. I don't even remember. And he said, "You know, Mer, you're almost legendary."
"Do you mean that in the way that I've had a really cool life or do you mean that in the way that I talk too much?"
"No. No. Really legendary."
This made me laugh so much.
I remember another conversation that Lily and I had with him a week or so ago about bravery. About how bravery isn't not being afraid. It's about being afraid of doing something but doing it anyway.
Believe it or not, those words helped me to decide to go to Cuba. Not that I need to prove to myself that I'm brave. I'm pretty sure I'm not. I mean, I'm hardly the first person ever to go to Cuba, or even the first old lady from the US to go to Cuba but I would like my grandson to think I am brave.
When he gets older, he certainly won't think of me as being legendary, but maybe he'll at least remember me as being interesting. Hell, I'll just be happy if he remembers me as someone who had chickens who laid eggs and who grew things in her garden that we could all eat.
Having been to Cuba is lagniappe and when he's a grown-up, perhaps people will be going to Mars and having a winter home in Cuba will be the norm.
I don't know. I'm rambling. Again.
I better eat some breakfast. And then begin my journey to a place I've wondered about my entire life.
It may be legendary.