years go fast, day's go so slow
There was a twelve hour roadtrip one day last week.
The trip involved my father's house mid-way and him loaning us a more comfortable car for my sister, brother-in-law and myself.
The trip ended on an island in Florida where I clung to every human being I came in contact with. Each person there I love so much.
We rolled in waves and burried my cousins child like a pumpkin in the sand.
The waves were the least scarriest thing I've ever faced.
Talk of marriage circulated constantly since every woman (and in my family there are many) had some opinion.
Makes sense: they've all been married repeatedly.
Does it not speak highly of me that I'm twentysix-years-old and never married? Each of them were married twice over by the time they reached my age.
My youngest brother spoke down to my boyfriend and I asked Mike to pick his battles, but it was upsetting. Still not sure how that will evolve. By the end of the weekend Mike realized how inflamatory my baby-brother's attitude to others as well, so Mike was less affected.
We slept head-to-head on a sectional sofa and awoke holding hands in the morning. I slept like a rock.
Saturday his words were the first I heard as he greeted me with "happy birthday". We ate gator-tail for dinner.
There was a cake and I received a phrenology head. All the candles were put out in a single breath, but I forgot to make a wish.
Things are going really well right now.
In the evening my middle brother played and sang at the same saloon where my mother's deceased, alcoholic father used to become intoxicated when she and her sisters were children.
She and her sisters all sat, listened, and drank with us younger generation.
My older sister became very drunk and sang some Rolling Stones in a voice more beautiful than any I'd ever heard. People came in from off the street and embraced her when she finished.
The salty air was hot and breezy and we danced, drank, laughed, and performed.
Mike acclimated himself gracefully.
Sunday there was another twelve hour road trip involving a second stop at my father's to return his car.
My gift from him was an entire set of new pots and pans. Very large.
Somewhere in Tennessee my sister was pulled over and asked to step out her car. I thought her husband was going to give the cops a reason to be suspicious after that.
But he didn't.
We ended the roadtrip in Kentucky at my sister's home, and yesterday afternoon she delivered me back to Indiana.
There is no black sand beneath the soft turf here. Nor are there gnarled oaks laced with Spanish moss and palmettoes spurring the trunks.
I felt like home there. My chest began to expand after we passed Macon, and further my lung capacity increased as the sky grey larger down through Waycross and past the Florida line. My heart swelled down the A1A across the Intercoastal Water Way. Many ills were mended when the island sun and sand cleansed my pores. Any my heart found nourishment from the affection and the lips of my lover.
Bloomington offers me challenges, though.
I'm responsible to deliver myself to home one day, and to discover the best route there. My laziness is not reprehinsable, but it's also not fully acceptable.
So, I have to go. Sitting still gives me nightmares.
