This has been a summer of Beach Chairs and Bar Stools. Most of the Beach Chair time was spent in St. Martin in June but I have logged a bit of time with my toes in the sand on Tybee Island.
Chelsea and Kristen argue that this is the least amount of time I’ve been on the beach in their entire lives. It is true I know as I have concentrated on the Back River and the marshes around my house.
Last night my Mom and Jeremy and I sat on my beloved back deck and spoke of lost love while we grilled steaks and chicken and drank wine. It was good to be with my family in the tropical back yard where I spend most of my time these days.
“I want to get a sign made with Fran’s name on it,” I explained, “and put it there on the fence underneath the canopy of a thousand shades of green. I think that it would be a good memorial.”
Fran was my friend in college and she taught me green one day as she stared at a bunch of evergreens outside of the History Building. She had M.S. and knew that her days were numbered and she appreciated …everything! Especially the shades of green and she took the time that day to teach me.
I can no longer sit on my beloved back deck and not pay a bit of homage to her. She died years and years ago and I am now convinced that Fran is the green.
Mom agreed and we discussed how it should be done. We then talked about serendipity and my writing and Jeremy’s job search and all of the things that my Mom does (which is a lot for a 70-something year old woman who believes she’s in her 40’s).
Then Chelsea and Sam blew in to get Jeremy for Tybee Bingo. Mom took this as a cue to leave and in a matter of seconds Goddess and I were alone. She started at me with her tail wagging.
“What?” I asked. Yes, I talk to a dog. “What do you want?”
She stared at the top of the fridge where her leash is kept.
“Ok,” I answer and got it.
We stroll to Shirley’s sad little holy dock. Shirley has hidden a couple of chairs that we can pull out and sit in so I grabbed one and Goddess and I sat and watched the sun set. The tide was low so the music was the ticks and pops of shells opening and closing. Fran must love the marsh too in her after life because it was also a brilliant explosion of greens against an almost black mud and purple gray sky. I sat and patted Goddess and watched and wondered.
A lot of people have told me that they are surprised that I am back from St. Martin at all. They thought that when I left Union Mission that I was finally going to expatriate. I returned because my Mom ordered me too basically and because I chase Serendipity. Last night I wondered about it all.
When I was in St. Martin there is this beach bar named “Orange”. It is built on powder white sand just yards away from an incredible aqua-blue ocean dotted with mountains and islands rising out of it. Orange is very French and Oliver (pronounced Ah-liv-eeeer) and they struggle with English. Almost every day I would stroll down Orient Beach and sit on the same bar stool, order a Presidente and a fish sandwich.
Oliver got to know me as the weeks stretched out and saw that I was alone. Through his broken English he would ask me questions and in no time at all I was greeted with smiles. Now the French are quick with smiles but not service so these lunches took a while but it was a nice break sitting on a bar stool from a long day in a beach chair.
And I remembered how grateful I was to Oliver for his greetings during a lonely and difficult time for me. And their fish sandwiches are better than our fish sandwiches. And Presidente Light is better than Bud Light. And I contemplate returning.
Then Goddess licked my thigh and I snapped out of this memory with a jerk.
“Well,” I said petting her with as much love as I have inside of me, “at least I got you!”
Then Goddess and I walked home underneath a brilliant blanket of stars on a warm summer night.
