Friday, July 27, 2018

From Mangoes To Memories

Friday, July 27, 2018

Mangrove blossoms by the dock at the Roseland Community Center

I woke up with the saddies today, as Sue would have said, for a completely illogical reason which was that I was already mourning leaving. And there was so much I wanted to do which I hadn't done and only two days to do it all in and oh, well, maybe a little bit of regular old birthday grieving as this is the last day of the sixty-third year of my life.

Roseland figures so hugely in my dream world. There are certain spots which are like like the sets in a play where the action occurs.
The river, of course.
The community center but dressed up as a library, which it once was in a way. A very, very limited and tiny way.
The lot by my grandfather's old house.
The little store where we bought Popsicles and bologna.
The railroad tracks.

And somehow, being here, in the real here, is disconcerting and wonderful and a little scary and most of all, amazing. 

We took a walk after breakfast this morning, just a small one, down the white sand road on the river up to the community center which I only found out this year that my grandfather donated the land for. Actually, there's quite a long stretch of land beside it which is also park and I'm not sure if he donated that too or not. I had no idea that he and my granny had done that. As I told Mr. Moon today, I had always vaguely wondered why he spent so much time clearing and tending that bit of jungle where the community center was. 

At the very west end of the park, there is a huge mango tree. 

We stopped and picked up two of the fruit on the ground and peeled them by hand where we stood and ate them.

I bet that tree was growing when I was a kid but I don't remember that specific one. 

We walked back down the paved road which had been the only paved road when I lived here, a skinny little slip of a road and I remembered each house, each yard, a memory or a million, attached to them all. Each one of them a portal to another time but the same exact place.

"Thank you," I told my husband as we sweated and finished up back here at the tiny paradise where we're staying, "For being so patient and listening to all of my stupid stories for the millionth time."
"You'd do it for me," he said. 
"I doubt it," I told him. "I'm not as nice as you." 

And this is true. 

We drove to Vero down A-1A which is the highway that hugs the Atlantic on one side and kisses the Indian river on the other. It used to be nothing but jungle for miles and miles and now there are rich-people houses in gated communities almost the entire way, the jungle tamed and trimmed and made safe for the elderly, the young, and probably mostly the Republicans. 
I could be wrong. 

We had lunch at a place by the beach and a storm came up and we waited for awhile in order to get to our car without getting drenched. Finally, we just dashed for it and we did get wet but I didn't care and I stopped right in the middle of it and took this picture.

A Banyan tree. Which is a magical sort of tree. 

And then back to this place which I am so loathe to leave. It has everything. 
It IS everything. 
The river, the pool, a bit of jungle, the giant bamboo which clacks deeply when the wind blows, the mangoes, the little tiny house which is all anyone would need. Air conditioning. Running water. The birds, the fish, the dock, the little hidden nook, the sky, the sky, the sky.
Lizards everywhere. 
Even the shower where I found this one, tiny as any lizard I've ever seen. 

Although you CAN go home again, there is no guarantee that you'll be allowed to stay forever. 
Lord God, Krishna, Buddha, Jesus, Coyote, Neptune, Apollo and Mary, it's blessing enough that your memory dreams have been preserved for real life. 

I have so much more to say but it's late. 

Here's what the sky looked like tonight off the dock. 

That water just flows and flows and it soothes my soul and it takes me with it in my dreams as well as in this life I've lived for sixty-four years now. 

I love it. I love it. I love it. 

And that's all I need to say.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. Happy birthday dear Mary!

  2. Happy Birthday to you, lovely Mrs Moon. Many thanks for all your wonderful blog posts love Blods xxx

  3. I feel that saddie and raise you one empty feel...I don't know this is a very melancholy post and I totally get it, Ms. Mary, Profound and happy if you want- Birthday. Birthdays after a certain age are reflective aren't the.
    Glad you stopped for fruit from that one tree, it probably remembers you.

  4. Wishing you a very happy birthday and many happy returns of the day, Mrs moon.
    You are a special soul. Xx

  5. Happy 64th Birthday! May you continue to be blessed abundantly and never stop writing!

  6. Happy birthday, thank you for lots and lots.

  7. Happy Birthday dear Mary! And many, many more. 💕💚🎂

  8. Wishing you many, many happy returns of the day.

  9. oh to be able to pick a mango up off the ground and eat it right there on the spot. I remember doing that once in my life when I was a kid when my family went to Mexico for a vacation. Happy birthday Ms Moon!

    1. and the tiny just hatched lizard! been seeing them around here too.

  10. Your memories of Roseland move me to tears every time. I would love to know the name of the place you stay. Though I wouldn't have the memories, that sunset is heartbreakingly beautiful. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARY MOON! I celebrate you!!!

  11. Dear Mary, Here's wishing you the Happiest Birthday ever! It Looks so divine. That pool, that place, those mangoes! Heaven on earth. XXOO

  12. The place of your childhood and your dreams is such a beautiful landscape. Oh, that sunset. The saddies today sound like a bit of nostalgia for what was and wasn't, and i so understand that. Plus birthdays of course. Birthdays make me melancholy too. I think sometimes we are the same person in vastly different bodies and places, having a twin soul experience. Lounge in the pool on your birthday. The water looks divine.

    HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DARLING MARY. We all love you so.

  13. You're such a kid Mary, I'm a whole 4 years older than you. I tried to remember my 65th but I can't, all of my birthdays past about 40 are all a blur.
    May you have the best, the most fantastic, the most wonderful and beautiful birthday that there will ever be. As your heart sings you share that sweet melody with all of us, thanks. I look forward to that song most every morning.

  14. I still need you and I’d be happy to feed you, now that you’re 64!!!

  15. Sorry, my bad math, I put you a year older than you are. Indeed..."when I'm 64..."

  16. Happy Birthday, darling Mary - and mango happy returns of the day! :D

    Eating a mango off the tree, I can't imagine the loveliness.

  17. Happy Birthday! It looks like you had a wonderful time:)

  18. Happy Birthday, Ms. Moon, and I wish you many more mangoes!

  19. I am glad you had a nice birthday. Mangoes and newborn (newhatched?) lizards and your man by your side. It’s the little things. Yes, it is.

  20. What an incredible luxury, to be able to pick up and peel and eat ripe mangoes! (We had a mango tree in our yard when I was a very small kid, but as far as I remember, it produced no fruit at all.) You convey very well the tropical, watery environment of Roseland.


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