He's shirtless, wears grey shorts and is barefoot as he tenderly waters a massive Camellia, taking his time to admire and appreciate it stretching towards the sun.
I like watching him.
Paying no attention to me, sitting on the Beloved Back Deck, wearing less than he is, listening to "The Doors" with my fingers dancing across the keyboard writing, he remains exclusively focused on the Camellia.
The sky is a pale blue without a cloud as the rising sun blazes through the branches of the Palm Trees and the Ocean breeze is brisker than it's been in months creating a false illusion of a coming Fall.
Reaching up, he cups a white Camellia in both hands, pulling it down to his face and breathes in deeply.
"People are strange," Jim Morrison reminds me, but I'm utterly captivated by his childlike wonderment finding it completely beguiling.
A choir of Cicada burst into Hymns of Praise.
The sound of the Ocean sloppily kissing the shore hangs in the air.
Tybee Island is a crazy place full of the distractions of Government, paramilitary Police, an overabundance of Stop Signs, more rules and regulations than are in the Old Testament and completely overrun with tourists desperate for what residents have.
But in moments like this, when the Bullshit of living here isn't a constant distraction, you get to what this Island really is.
A massive green Lemon drops from the tree in the yard separating his house from mine and, hearing it, he un-cups the Camellia and sees me watching him.
He waves and smiles before holding his naked arms towards the Heavens as if to say "Thank you."
It makes me laugh.
So I raise my hands towards Heaven in response and it makes him laugh.
This is the island at it's best.
Apart from the Bullshit we're constantly hurling at it, Tybee Island somehow remains as beautiful as when God made it.
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