The first unofficial day back from vacation…and I’m totally rejuvenated. Undaunted, as I look around at the piles of snail mail, receipts and miscellaneous other papers on my desk, I shrug them off to plunge into writing. The past twelve days have had a positive impact on my mind, spirit and soul, not to mention my muse.
I’m renewing my commitment to myself to write 500 words a day. That’s an obtainable goal, at this point, as I launch a publishing company, assist my daughter and son-in-law readying their nursery for my first grandchild, and maintain my numerous other daily personal objectives: yoga, meditating, etc. You do see my tongue in my cheek, right?
Though now that I’ve said it, I’ll find every challenge imaginable tumbling across my path. Cause when I share something aloud, obstacles somersault toward me. Ever had that happen?
It took a great deal longer for me to unwind this time. By day three, I’d stopped checking my messages hourly, and by day five I hit a new routine, which did not include answering email. Okay, the occasional communication demanded my attention, however, I found my mind wandering and wondering about my surroundings, not my unchecked mental to-do-list.
I particularly enjoyed our beach front location, and began watching the wildlife scattered along the coast, Palmetto treetops and wild floral, as they danced and waved their welcome. The ocean swayed as the chilly May temperatures, from overnight rain, deterred bathers. Not a jellyfish littered the shoreline, although joggers were scattered among shell scavengers. Pelicans and seagulls both swooped and dove for visible sand-coated treasures, while grackles and mockingbirds exchanged melodies and obscenities.
The neighboring residents were few, one lady frequented her bungalow to refresh her beverage, re-secure her graying wind-blown pony-tailed hair, add snacks to the tray and I assume spritz on more perfume. Every time her sliding door glided open, I could catch an echo of rum, coconut, Red Door and popcorn. Yes, popcorn!
A loud yellow dish towel shields the popcorn as the bowl nestles on her bamboo tray, three tumblers jingle as she flip-flops her way toward the sand, and her awaiting entourage.
Two whiskered sunbathers greet her with a cheek kiss, and then clink glasses together, sipping and laughing as she settles into her lounger. To me, people watching is wild-life, and I’m always fascinated, pondering answers as questions volley in my mind.
I watch. The grackles tug at a scrap, perhaps bread, breaking the chunk into bits. Starlings flock. The mockingbirds wing higher, and observe the clambering below. There’s a somberness in the air, and then one mockingbird, followed by two others, screech and sneer. Laughter builds inside me, but I don’t let it escape, for fear of startling them, parallel to me, and less than three yards away.
Slowly, I turn toward the wasps’ comb above me, on the deck beam marking the overhead balcony. I’m glad we have all three floors, to view what’s creeping underneath each level. The mockingbirds settle to volleying squawks, and I turn my interest back to the shoreline.
My neighbor is on the move, each hand intertwine fingers with her companions. They stumble toward the incoming current. She trips, and they lift her, like a mannequin, hoisting her upright and continuing. Their toes meet tide, and I watch as behind their backs the seagulls scatter the popcorn and feast.