Driving home in the rain across the causeway that connects Wilmington Island to Tybee Island I hit every button on the radio because no one's wanting to play anything I want to hear.
I'd had dinner with a bunny with angel wings which is not something most can claim to have done. My invitation to dinner had been received with a gleeful yell, "HE'S COMING!" as she slammed the phone down. Once there I had secret plans to make so we lingered in the car while the others rushed inside the restaurant.
Afterwards there were hugs, questions and prayers that scary dreams stay from from everyone. There's enough scary stuff in life.
Hitting Tybee I saw that the Christmas decorations draped across the road though have yet to be lit. That's another excuse for a party. Earlier I saw what Tybee proposes as a Christmas Tree. It is at the end of Tybrisa Street (which used to be 16th Street and sits between 15th and 17th Streets but the Politicians decided a new name was better). Slightly off-center in the circle that is confusing for drivers, sits ... a bush. It's not really a tree. It's a bush ... decorated with beach balls. The Politicians idea of celebrating Christmas on the island is ... a bush with balls slapping against it in the wind.
The rain falls as I remember.
Then at the intersection of Jones and Butler, the light turns red and I coast to a stop.
And I see him.
He is carrying a laundry basket in the rain. It is stuffed full of neatly folded clothes ... so he cannot rush. He walks with a purpose so that the pile doesn't tip over ... in the rain ... as he makes his way from the laundry mat where he used every quarter he has ... to clean himself up for another go at life.
The light turns green but I sit there ... watching him. He shakes his head as if he's saying to himself ... or to God ... "Thanks. This is just great."
The light turns red again as he disappears into the darkness and rain. My eyes are full of ocean and salt water stings as I wipe them.
I know that laundry mat. I've spent every quarter that I had there. Sitting listening to the hum of the spin cycle or endlessly watching the dryer tumble around and around and around. Alone and in desperate need of clean clothes ... so that I could clean myself up from the messes I'd made ... and give life another go.
The light turns green again.
Instead of turning towards home, I drive around the Big Curve and take a left ... and stop at the ocean. The rain falls. The temperature has fallen 17 degrees since I left the bunny with the angel wings. White capped waves slam onto the shore. He is still walking in the rain with a laundry basket piled high with hopes for tomorrow getting wetter and wetter. Maybe at the bottom of the pile there will be something.
Opening the door, I get outside and the rain stings my face. Christmas music is playing on the radio. "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me."
"Hey God," I say out loud.
Angry waves slam the shore. Rain falls harder. The wind grows colder.
"That's just not right."
Nothing changes.
"Yeah, I got it," I say climbing back into the car and driving home.
Once there, I call everyone I know who's trying to clean things up in their lives ... so I can tell them that I love them.
