Another Road

This is the view from the end of our road.

It's pretty spectacular.

Green marsh grass with the pungent aroma of sex in the tropics at Low Tide ... a gorgeous Lighthouse flashing simultaneous warning and welcome ... Docks leading to hidden deep waters ... boats tied to them waiting for released ... lovely vacation rentals that are former homes to locals ... miles and miles of clear blue skies and slow moving cotton candy clouds.

It's as beautiful as it's always been but nothing's the same.

Just as the Beach is different every single day with the ebb and flow of the tides, the creation and erasing of Tidal pools, treasures washed ashore only to be carried away again ... a whole island has changed though on the surface it looks very much the same.

I've called it home for 30 years now and it's been my safe harbor as I was the one changing the world ... partners ... vocations ... and myself.

That's a long time chronicling more differences than I can list in a single sitting.

Thirty years of anything can leave you worn out, tired, cynical and disgusted.

It can also leave you thankful that you've survived decades and appreciate who's still with you staring straight into the fall of life.

I've never been one to settle, forever chasing the rainbow, but truth is I seem to have gotten stuck without meaning to or even realizing what was happening.

Then Sarah comes out of the past baptizing me in love and out of that Che is born bringing new life into one slowing down ... new wine in old wineskins indeed.

Suddenly everything is new again ... including me ... and it's time to stare at what's out there on the horizon.

The other day I was in Tybee Market with Che picking up dinner and baby food when I ran into another Island Old Timer.

"Micheal, I have to tell you Bud, I ran into your ex-wife the other day and mentioned I'd seen you and the new grandchild."

"Ouch," I wince, grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees. "But I gotta tell ya Man, you're fucking nuts."

"Yeah," I agree. "I wouldn't change it for anything Tommy."

He smiles then erupts into a laughter that lacks confidence before saying, "I couldn't do it. I'd never want to."

"I know," I reply, "but I do ... and I have ... and I am ... and I will."

Boats are built to carry us to new places far on the horizon, away from the past and straight into the future.

You may never make it everywhere you want to go ... it's one of the risks of not settling ... but then again you might ... you never know until you try.

One of my favorite songs ends with those words.

You never know until you try.

I'm eternally grateful looking over the horizon to this island all those years ago, not settling for where I was to get here and enjoying the Hell out of this ride in spite of the mishaps.

But right now, I'm looking over the horizon at the end of our road, wondering what's out there. Sarah and I talk about it often.

Where our road ends, another begins.

One of sand and not asphalt.

Coconuts in the Palm Trees.

Clear water of aqua blues and greens.

And houses that floats.