— Little River Band
As I sit here at Mexico Beach, Fla., quietly looking out over the balcony of the El Governor Motel — a stately edifice that, like many of us, has seen better days — my feet still tingle from a brief romp in the chilly waters of the Gulf of Mexico below.
The wife and kids left me here with my thoughts while they visited old friends, and I’m struck anew with wonder at the sun-gleaming beach and the Coke-bottle clear waters of the Gulf.
In my musings, a moment of pure serendipity plays out before me and I’m given a gift. A pod (group? school? covey?) of dolphins — their black and dirty-gray dorsal fins majestic in the bright sunlight — makes its way westward, chasing lesser members of the food chain some halfway between the shoreline and the horizon.
Awestruck, I watch their graceful ballet, wondering if they’re aware they have an appreciative audience.
While lost in the rhythm of the waves’ never-ending rush to the shore to deposit wondrous treasures — perfect seashells in colors that stretch the far ends of the rainbow’s spectrum — the flame of my longstanding love affair with this glorious place is rekindled.
I all but lost that flame for the better part of two years, its significance overshadowed by necessity and circumstance that rendered all but the basic survival instinct moot.
But here I sit on this incredible Saturday, wiser by far and more in love with this life than ever before. Given another chance to appreciate the things that matter, I relish the sweet sunshine that warms my face. I shamelessly spy on a young couple as they proudly watch their toddler romp in the sand, and I surreptitiously share in their joy.
Two younger couples stroll by, hand-in-hand, their youthful bodies tanner than they should be in the dead of winter, and the beauty of their blossoming is a wonder to behold. In my splendor, I don’t envy them their youth, I silently wish them the good sense to revel in it, to find the all too fleeting joy that goes with the package.
There have probably been days in my life that were as perfect as this one, but with this scene laid out before me, I find it hard to remember them.
My folks are due back any time now. We’re going to work up our appetites collecting shells, maybe swim in the El Governor’s heated pool, then we’re going to sit down and feast on local cuisine.
I expect when I return to work, Herald Librarian Mary Braswell — who with her soul mate, Ronnie, took an anniversary weekend trip that included a concert by Gordon Lightfoot (yes, he’s still alive and in great voice) — will be the only person in the building who can comprehend the sudden, unexpected spring in my step.
She understands all too well ... sometimes in life you just have to recharge.
E-mail Carlton Fletcher at carlton.fletcher@.at.albanyherald.com.