Outside my window this Monday morning, the sky is glowing orange. Across the street, the Gulf of Mexico lies in near-silence as it gently laps at the shore. To the west, clouds are building into thunderheads for storms expected along the panhandle of Florida later today. Another hotel breakfast, and we are again on the road.
On this return drive through Apalachicola, I took a moment to check out a small corner of the historic district and then stopped along a bayside park where Caroline and I had stopped with my mother-in-law a couple of years earlier. This small town of Apalachicola is one of my favorites in all of Florida. The town has not been commercially invaded yet; no massive new homes and no high-rise condos have crept in. The original charm of its perfect setting is alive and well-maintained.
Making quick time across the southern states was ok but here on these white sand beaches and their clear waters, I want to linger. Thoughts bombard me to take off my shoes and walk barefoot in the sand. I want to kick at the water and drag my toes through the surf before taking a couple of hours to thoroughly inspect all the shells for the best specimens.
Our mission after visiting Jessica was to get to Bradenton, Florida, in order for Grandpa and Auntie to visit some friends. Along the way, we have taken brief moments to see the sights not seen before by these two in all their years of living right here in America. They, too, like so many others, have never bothered to get off the main road.
At times, Grandpa has trouble seeing the road for what it is and is trying to act as the driver from his passenger seat. Auntie, on the other hand, is traveling like a pro with maps in her lap, following the road by staying up with the instructions of my meticulous itinerary. She looks for flowers, plants, birds, and more of the boiled peanuts I so desperately desire.
Morning here on the coast is a lesson in tranquility. Approaching spring, the trees are fresh with new growth that is especially vibrant in the coastal sunshine.
I could drive this road for a thousand years. Make a million stops to inspect anything and everything that comes into view. From the white concrete of this bridge to the dew on leaves, hugging white sands and listening to the light wind rustle the grasses on the soft dunes next to the shore. All of these are moments that should be ingrained into the etchings of my memory, never to be forgotten.
The day rolls along, getting better by the mile. It is a perfect 74 degrees with deep blue skies dotted with the occasional white fluffy cloud. We fall behind with my constant stops for photos; I want it all for memories, for sharing with family, for savoring on a day when I may no longer be able to come and go as easily as I do now.
Thickets line the road. Blackwaters reflect grayish trees growing out of their darkness. Cypress sends up roots like buds emerging to flower, and birds sing. I am mesmerized by all of this and saddened, too, knowing that many a traveler can never see this profound beauty laid out before them. It is free for the taking, but others’ cynicism can create barriers that act as blinders where they follow the broken yellow stripe in the center of the road to the next stop.
Every so often, a town emerges between woodlands. At times, the place is not much more than a gas station or two at an intersection with a few homes visible from the road. Other times, only some remains are off hiding and nearly gone, falling into decay behind the trees. The community church is not much more than a hulking shell with a pew or two left and a broken piano in the corner.
Where boiled peanuts had once been enjoyed along a busy road, the new highway built miles away diverted people away from these places. Without the traffic, they die a slow death, and consequently, everything fades away. The joy of serendipitous finds or stopping for Sunday services and catching the choir was a uniquely different time than the homogenized pop culture we are cultivating today.
Not all is lost yet. There is still the adventurous traveler who takes these roads and the hold-out residents who don’t want to be absorbed into a vanilla world of look-and-act-alike banalities. The rural fish stand, a taxidermist, and a small bar and grill can cling to life with just a trickle of traffic. Florida may have huge insects, high humidity, hurricanes, road kill stew myths, NASCAR, mullets, snowbirds, and the weirdest news this side of Germany but I have yet to meet an unfriendly person here.
Toll roads await us. Here a toll, there a toll, everywhere a toll-toll, the collector takes another dollar and another. The sun peeks through from behind dark clouds that come and go while we fight to make our way through heavy traffic, passing through Tampa to St. Petersburg on our way to Bradenton.
Checked into another motel, we ventured back out for dinner and some supplies. Auntie has been feeling a little “stopped up” and I am introduced to a new type of embarrassment I never could have imagined. I find us a drugstore and start the hunt discreetly. Overhead, I find the description of the product line I seek, Laxatives. OK, where are they? Bingo found the first item, suppositories, not just any old ones but Fleet Suppositories.
The next item isn’t readily visible but ultimately was found with some help. I had to ask where the hot water bottles were. If you wonder what was so embarrassing about things so far, well, it wasn’t anything yet. That happened as I approached the counter, and my tools for unplugging were being rung up.
The young woman at the counter is a gothic tattooed and pierced ‘grrrl.’ As I approach, I’m compelled to blurt out, “You know, I thought it was embarrassing to have to go to a drug store and buy condoms when I was 20 years old. I thought that would be the worst transaction I would ever have to make, but today, I have found a new low. You probably wouldn’t really believe me that these suppositories and enema bag are for my great aunt out in the car would you?”
Back at the car, Auntie is happier than a clam. Her long bout with constipation is about to come to an end this evening. This dialogue about function, bowel, and urinary issues is a common one at any given hour. I have driven three thousand miles and heard, talked about, asked, inquired, and helped get to and will soon be dreaming of bathrooms and the problems old age brings regarding elimination.
Our weather is supposed to take a turn for the worse in the coming days, according to tonight’s forecast. Thunderstorms and tornado warnings north of us loom large, but maybe, like other TV weather forecasts, this one will be as wrong as the others. I wish for continued clear skies and that everything comes out ok for Auntie as I go to sleep at nearly 1:00 a.m. after another great day.