You, the cat(s) and me
It’s witch’s-tit cold here in South Florida. Which makes it hard to sit by the ocean and not turn into a Dawn-cicle.
The views, though, have been nothing short of picturesque.
I appreciate the hurricane-strength windows through which I look at them. My windows at home are about as sturdy as plastic wrap.
The floors are also lovely (I have marble, ugh), and everything but the TV works.
So, if I ever wonder whether it was worth spending a month’s rent on a week by the sea, that’s a big ole YEAH.
After all, the Keys is a place to be with people you love.
Looking back on the monorail of life that races between hell and paradise with few stops in between, I can say I’ve been brought by many here.
I’ve also brought many. And there’s always been love or something like it.
I have a “Key West Time” playlist for these trips. Haven’t played it in over two years because, Covid.
It’s mostly Kenny Chesney, a little local music and other enamored artists who sing about streets and sights and all things lime.
Was white-knuckling it with one hand the other day past Fred the Tree (camera in other hand, of course). High-speed photography on the Seven-Mile Bridge makes for quite a thrill ride.
I told Mom this playlist feels like it’s missing something. What should we add?
It didn’t take her two seconds to say “Jessie.”
From a phone booth in Vegas Jessie calls at 5 a.m.
To tell me how she’s tired of all of them
She says, “Baby, I’ve been thinking about a trailer by the sea
We could go to Mexico; you, the cat and me
We’ll drink tequila and look for seashells
Now doesn’t that sound sweet”
Oh Jessie you always do this every time I get back on my feet
When she said it (and I played it 10x), I had a strong memory of playing that song on one of my Keys trips and the person who was in the passenger seat.
(Vintage pic from when Sloppy Joe’s made frozen mango mojitos. Why take this off the menu?!)
I thought, who knew all that time ago what life would be like for us now.
I don’t know that it got a lot better. Certainly not much easier.
I hope he’s found his happiness. Sometimes I think I’ve found mine.
Actually I know I have.
It just doesn’t look anything like I thought it would during those lazy swims under the too-watchful eye of the lady who ran that B&B on Duval after listening to The Doerfels at Sloppy Joe’s.
A couple days ago, I bought two souvenirs that I know he would have wanted for himself.
I might even send them.
I sent a small souvenir in 2020. But maybe I’ll keep these.
After all, these are my memories too.
I wonder if he misses my harebrained “Jessie” schemes. Back then, you’d never know when I was going to show up nearby and say “meet me here.” I think we both loved that thrill.
For me, it was the being with someone who was up for anything, anytime that made it all so special.
And again, who knew it would end up being Mom and three (five) cats as the loves (and road trip buddies) of my life.
I ain’t mad at that.