The first memory that stands out in my mind is crossing the bridge over Tampa. My first real glimpse of the Gulf of Mexico. A big expansive body of water, larger than anything I'd ever laid my eyes on. The sun seemed to dance on the surface and reflect off of my surprised eyes. The real deal had far surpassed the anticipation.
The next memory is a fork in the road. Literally. Like something out of that story about Robert Johnson and the crossroads. One direction led to swampland, the other to my sweet salvation. A gas station stood on the corner with two pumps and quite abandoned. I think I'd seen it before in a bad horror film.
The signs in Fort Myers blew my mind. Beach this way and that way. Alligator crossings. Sanibel Causeway up ahead. And the beach shops, on every corner with their colorful inflatables hanging on ropes. Signs proclaiming nothing over $9.99. A bargain hunter's dream.
A tollbooth and $6 later and we were crossing. Estero Bay spread out before my eyes like a Thanksgiving Feast. Boats and fisherman dotted along the waves. The sun twinkling on the surface in a more furious fashion than Tampa. An island lay up ahead.
A vacation rental office awaited with keys. A credit card imprint, a pile of paperwork and a folder full of directions and more information than we'd ever need and finally I'd arrived. A parking lot full of sand. Sand! I'd never seen such a spectacle. Periwinkle Way laid out before me with it's shops and bait houses. And palm trees, truly tropical remnants, proof that I'd finally made it. 19 years and a dream.
The sun was setting, the sky had turned overcast as Jon sped ahead towards the surf in his red swimming trunks. I walked gingerly, taking the sights in. A long expansive beach lay before me, much more real than I'd ever imagined. Everyone said smell the salt in the air. I guess that was salt I smelled. It was the freshest air I've ever been in before, despite the heat it felt fresh and not heavy. Shells of every shape and color dotted the beach. I kept my flip flops on until I reached the surf, then delicately slipped one off, swept my foot across the surface and then dug my toes into the wet, warm sand. Perfection. I'd found another home.
One definition of home is any place of residence or refuge. That day, on the sand with my feet in the water I stared across the gulf before me and the island behind me and discovered something that I hadn't known I'd been missing. A place of refuge. Solitude. Peace.
June 4, 2005: A Perfect Day.
1 comment:
oh i loved this! it made me miss the beach so much though, haha :)
i'm glad you tried it too...i think i might do another one soon. you're right, it does help beat away the winter blues, even though i didn't realize that while i was doing it!
Post a Comment