Saturday, November 30, 2019
A Post Thanksgiving Post
It is an odd day as I sit only 200 yards from a white sandy beach and a tropical ocean. The beach has been re-created by man and is soft and mushy. It is surrouned by concrete cubes of architecture that block the sun by 2:00 in the afternoon. Like migrating birds this sends all the beached whales that had flopped on towels around the pool inside to other activities. All around are people having too much fun. Lots of curvy skin (those large cheeks of tanned cellulite are really distracting) and their shiny gold bracelets demand respect as their bleached locks with streaks of carnival red are intriguing. The music is loud, the children are hyped, the drinks flow freely and I am feeling lost on an alien planet bracing my feet in the event that there is a black hole sucking up ahead.
At least a third of the partcipants at sun and surf are well- toned runners with phones strapped to their arms and water bottles in hand as they gazelle along the beachwalk and weave past the rare homeless man whose bicycle is piled with stuff.
The last of the group are elders like us who trod and plod from one gift shop to one restaurant and finally back to our beach chairs with some beach drink in hand and a good book tucked under our arms.
I am here with grands who never leave the pool except to visit the hot tub or run in the surf and then back to the pool. I exchange less than three words with them during the day, because when they return to the bedroom they focus on small screens snapchatting with friends back home. Snapchat is a frightening way to communicate, I am thinking, but I am old, what the hell do I know?
We go with hubby to visit the home he left over a half century ago and oddly enough the house next door had younger (now old and retired) neighbors that remember him from past visits! We talk about the history of the neighborhood and are surprised that while people have passed and new people moved in, it has not changed much in culture or architecture.
Later in the afternoon we all tried to find the gravesites of the great grands wandering over the cemetary reading plot after plot, but with the cemetary offices closed on TG day we will have to do ask them directly another day.
Our meal on the holiday is an extensve buffet of TG favorites at some famous chef's restaurant, and although it is expensive, it is really delicious. No leftovers to take home, though.
The crazy week comes to an end tonight and we drive back north and visit friends in Central Florida for a few days while the kids all fly home. Then by mid-week we return to the land of wintry storms and cozy fires.