Here's the bloom on the second orchid that has buds on it. It seems rather obvious to me now that I really must love that dusky pink color. The "old lady pink" I was talking about the other day. Which makes sense. I am an old lady. Or, at least an old woman.
Which reminds me of a woman I knew back in the olden days who had a tattoo of a Mack truck on her strong, skinny arm. This was years before very many women got tattoos. Like- almost none. Anyway, one day my ex and I were around her at some music thing and a guy called her a "little lady." She looked him straight in the eye and said, "I ain't no lady but I sure can fiddle."
And indeed she could. She was a fine fiddler.
I bet you anything the ex still remembers that too. We repeated it often between ourselves.
Speaking of the ex, I ran into him today outside of the Costco. I can't even remember the last time I saw him. We hugged and caught up a bit. He'd just had lunch at the pizza place where May works so he'd gotten to see her. His wife is in Cuba right now on some sort of friendship tour and we talked a bit about my experiences there. I told him that I'd bet anything that she'll have the same reaction I had and that everyone I know who's been there has, which is to go with so many questions and to come home with so many more.
It was good to see him.
*****************
I am having a dilemma.
Mr. Moon is going over to Dog Island either tomorrow or very soon. He has things he has to bring back like tools. And I have expressed a desire to get a few things out of the house myself. Nothing of great importance or value, just heart-things. But every time I think of going there for that one last trip, I begin to cry.
Now I haven't been there in years, mostly because it hasn't been in a condition that I'd want to stay there in. The floors have been torn up and the oven doesn't work and only one or two burners on the stove work and not very well at that. I've missed going there, yes, but somehow knowing it's there and still ours has been enough, but going to see it for the last time seems overwhelmingly hard and sad.
I have had some of the best times of my life on that little island, in that little house. I have watched sunsets that have only been rivaled by the ones in Cozumel.
I have listened to the wind whip through the pines and the dunes, crying as it goes. I have seen dolphin play in the bay and I have walked the flats at low tide, marveling at the many creatures that are revealed when the water draws back. I have seen waterspouts and I have walked miles and miles and miles around the coastline of the island. On the Gulf side, I have seen something so huge jump from the water that I, to this day, cannot imagine what it was. I have watched osprey soar and dive for fish. I have cooked some of the best meals of my life in that funky kitchen. I have read books there and written part of books there. I have taken my kids there and we have enjoyed the pure Florida-ness of it together. I have played zillions of card games there on the back screened-in porch. I have had some of the best times of my marriage there.
And that's just part of it.
But.
I have also had some of the worst experiences of my life there. I spent a week on the island alone when I was in the worst anxiety of my life. 100% constant panic day and night. I had thoughts too dark to bear and too dark to recall without crying. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I thought that going to the island by myself would be healing as it had been so many times before. I'd spent so many days by myself there, never afraid of the least little thing, content and at peace, sometimes not seeing another soul for days.
And I had another experience there that I can't even talk about but it was something I'd never expected and will never forget.
So I guess you could say that I have big feelings about Dog Island. Huge feelings. Feelings that engulf me. And perhaps all of that is the plain and true reality that that part of our lives is over. The part where my husband and I would cross the bay in the dark, the water gleaming and shimmering with phosphorescent light and the reflection of stars. We were so much younger and so much stronger and oh, how we danced. We always danced on the island with each other and with the kids. We danced to The Buena Vista Social Club and to the Dixie Chicks and to Dolly Parton and Jimmy Buffet.
And...those days are not going to happen again.
I feel like if I walk into that house and smell that unique combination of salt and sand and sulphur water and sun-heated pine, I will not be able to stand it.
So maybe I won't go. I can tell Mr. Moon the things I know I want from the house and if there are other things that I have forgotten, well then- I obviously do not need them.
And that part of my life may be over but I am not in a terrible place now by any means. I am not as strong or danceable as I once was and god knows, not nearly so adventuresome. I cannot walk for hours on beach and bay, nor can I haul water and food and supplies up rickity steps. But I can still walk and I can still love being outside and doing what I can. I can still make beautiful meals and I can still love my husband in ways that call upon those distant days past.
Here are some things from my yard today.
Well. Maybe I should have smoked a big joint but I didn't.
I know that. Not that many people do.
Those wild roses are wonderful. I remember them in the ditches and along the back roads when I was a child.
ReplyDeletePerhaps you need to say Goodbye to the island. What is the worst. An hysterical melt down. I doubt it.
Gosh. They're just the most beautiful of all, aren't they?
DeleteNot going to the island. I'll be discussing that in tonight's post.
it's ok to not go back. sending love and peace. xxalainaxx
ReplyDeleteI just love you.
DeleteGo and have a good cry and then repeat that sweet 💋 picture!
ReplyDeleteWe can repeat the picture anywhere!
DeleteWhat beautiful writing about Dog Island. As we age, we all have to let go of some of the things we love and that are important in our lives. Been there done that and continue to do so.... but life goes on as life goes on. I, too, have those melancholy moments...but new adventures await. Love your flower pics.
ReplyDeleteParanormal John
I guess new adventures do await. And the older I get, the more brilliance and joy the smallest things bring me.
DeleteI suppose the question is - which would you regret more, going or not going? The only certain thing is that no matter which you chose, you will never know if the other choice would have been better - because that is just how life works!
ReplyDeleteThe light shining through that deep maroon rose is beautiful - it glows like a beacon of love.
You are so right about never knowing which would have been better! But I think I know which is better for me.
DeleteYes. That rose reminds me of heart in all of its bloody beauty. Is that weird?
There's a red theme running through the flowers today.
ReplyDeleteTo go or not to go? Let us know what you decide. I think either way has its points. I also think it's your Schrodinger's
cat.
There is a red theme! I have found that flowers of the same colors tend to bloom at the same time but that would not apply to orchids, I would think.
DeleteYes. My own Schrodinger's.
The few times I have seen my ex (the first one) I always want to stab him with sharp knives and that's all I'm going to say about that.
ReplyDeleteI think you should go to Dog Island, collect the things you love and want and say goodbye to the house, the dock, the beach, the island.
Haha! I will not lie to you- there are things that I will never forget that happened in my first marriage that I am still not completely zen about. I'll just say that.
DeleteI feel the same as most of the others above -- it might be good for you to go and say goodbye, and also have your own last look at what's in the house and what you might want. God forbid you belatedly remember something you left behind there. As Joanne said, what's the worst that could happen? You have a good cry. Mr. Moon will be there with you and it seems like it might be important to have that together time.
ReplyDeleteThat amaryllis is stunning!
Well, a thing that could very well happen is that I get triggered which is not an unheard of situation for me. We are all different, aren't we?
DeleteIsn't that a pretty amaryllis?
That was a beautiful tribute to Dog Island (and the most beautiful picture). I hope the next owners get just as much pleasure out of it!
ReplyDeleteOh, me too!
Delete"I had another experience there that I can't even talk about but it was something I'd never expected and will never forget" Well that got me thinking and imagining but of course I will not pressure you to tell but maybe one day you will feel able to explain. Farewell to Dog Island and the good times you had there.
ReplyDeleteNah. I'll probably never talk about this. You know how some things are. They are best kept in a vault where they can be taken out and examined in the light by the one who needs to examine them.
DeleteDog Island was amazing for us.
Navigating change is always, always hard for me. It's like taking a kayak down river. You see the rapids up ahead, and it makes you nervous as hell as you're trying to set up in your mind just how you're going to get through that to the calm underneath, and then you're IN the rough water, and your adrenalin is pumping, and you feel like you're about to be sick and then, finally you're through. And you marvel at the calm, and are grateful for untroubled water once again. That's change for me. Rough water. I don't like it, but we need to get through it. Good luck, friend.
ReplyDeletePerfect metaphor, Debby. Thank you. I'm going to keep that one in my pocket.
DeleteYou'll decide what is best for you. It will be sad to go but sad to not go so you will have sadness for a while either way. But you have your memories and you have your family and lovely home and garden so the present will comfort you as you remember the best of the past.
ReplyDeleteI will try my best to do that, Ellen. Thank you.
DeleteI know how you feel. it was hard selling the family beach house but none of us left, that being my sister and I, could afford the maintenance anymore. and then the decade I spent as a river guide, canoeing and kayaking. it was really hard knowing that part of my life was over, some of the best times I ever had.
ReplyDeleteI bet you anything that giving up being a river guide was harder for you than giving up the house. Not only was it something you loved doing but I am sure it was a big part of your identity as a strong, capable, and extremely knowledgeable and able woman. In giving up Dog Island, Glen and I both are having similar issues. Not the same by any means, but self identity stuff. It's fucking hard.
DeleteYou have many years of exceptionally wonderful memories of time spent on Dog Island. Those memories are yours always and forever. It is never easy to cut ties. Your roses are amazingly beautiful. The amaryllis blooming outside of December is shocking for me, I thought they were Christmas blooming plants. The photo of you and Mr. Moon on the beach is novel book cover quality.
ReplyDeleteI do have so many memories of Dog Island and I've actually written about being there so many times. Even when the internet was a screeching, squawking phone line connection!
DeleteI'm not sure who took that picture but one of the kids, I'm sure.
Do you know the poem One Art by Elizabeth Bishop? It’s all about change and loss. It’s beautiful. Take a look at it.
ReplyDeleteI read it, June! Thank you. It is a good one.
DeleteWhat wisdom we all have here! My point of view is to go to Dog Island. It will bring closure. You may find that the house does not hold what it once did for you. You can say goodbye, even through tears. But there may not be tears, simply closure. I assume the island is not private and you can return and enjoy walks on the beach and swims and kisses even without a house.
ReplyDeleteSending love and hugs,
Patricia
I have a hard time with the concept of closure. I am not sure I truly believe in it. And there is no doubt that the the house would cause a great deal of emotion in me. If nothing else, it is the place where all of those things happened and even the memories of them is very emotional for me.
Delete