A Beach Bum Christmas

A grey fog hangs in the air shading Fran's thousand shades of green on a warm Christmas morning. There is no ocean breeze so the leaves hang as though still sleeping. My bare feet dangle from the high top chair on the beloved back deck tenderly rubbing Goddess' hair. The Hibiscus blooms are closed but still look like ornaments on a tree.

I contemplate building a fire but there is no chill.

Squirrels dart along the wires hanging overhead. A woodpecker is drilling wood. The ocean sings in the distance. The pungent aroma of the marsh smells like sex in the tropics.

I've gotten what I wanted for Christmas. I'm a beach bum. For years this has been my aspiration but I could never quite figure out how to finance it so I worked and the work always came first. I was a beach bum in my spare time.

No more.

It's the other way around now. I am a full time beach bum who works hard when I'm working but takes time every day appreciate the things going on around me.

I celebrate my friends who either sustained me or keep raising themselves from the dead bring tidings of comfort and joy. A Carnival keeps breaking out for no apparent reason scattering smiles and laughter.

Sarah is sleeping as quiet as a mouse.

So it's just Goddess and me for the moment.

It makes me think back for a moment. I've gotten everything I've asked for this Christmas. Sure there are other things I need but I've got the things I want. Healthy and happy children. The wife I love is sleeping peacefully. I love where I live and the people who live near me. I'm doing the things I really want to do.

I'm having myself a merry little Christmas.

Well ... at least until the girls get home in a few hours then all holy hell will break loose.

Happy Christmas all.