Different now and Dead

"Let's hit the road," I said as we made our way through the marsh on the Tybee Road. "What?" she asked looking incredulous. "We just got home." "Your point?" I quickly asked. "I want to stay home. I've missed our home." "Hmmm," I said staring at the brilliant green hues of sea grass dancing on top of a high tide. "Where?" she prodded. "South," I gleefully answered. "St. Martin would be nice." "Isn't Orient Beach closed?" she knowingly said. "So," was my witty and snappy comeback. "Key West?" I inquired. She rolled her eyes and commented on the large tanker ship entering the mouth of the river beside the Cockspur Lighthouse. We drove on home, unloaded the groceries and put them away. Strolling out to the Beloved Back Deck, I sip a glass of wine and place my feet on the rail, toasting Fran's thousand shades of green and the Palm Tree with the oyster face, coconut bra and grass skirt. Every direction I look is lush tropical vegetation and it has the feel of a back yard in Key West. Wearing only a pair of running shorts, the ocean blows a line from a song though my mind ... "She wears a Red Sox cap to hide her baby dreads, the girl she was in New England is different now and dead ..." Yep. That's me. I'm different now. Who I was is dead ... actually dying I suppose though dying nonetheless. I'm becoming somebody new. Being reborn is how Christians would say it. My toes dig deeper in the sand. I'm teaching a new generation of girls to dig their toes in too. Cheslea was here this past weekend and we sat on the beach together. She's literally my beach girl. As a baby, she went with me and crawled in the sand while I sat in a chair beside her. It was just her and me. She now has sand in her soul though living in Atlanta dreaming of getting back to the sea. I used to be corporate and connected. Now I'm adrift and amour. I'm never going back. I gave them everything I had ... and they took it. I "talk to my family every now and then, through emails and postcards" ... phone calls and brief visits ... as they struggle to understand. Sometimes people call wanting me to be what I was and I try to be nice but really I'm not interested. For years I've wanted to expatriate, leave the United States and live on an island. The truth of the matter is, I do. And, I have. Who I was is different now and dead.