say by slamming on the brakes and flying off my bicycle because Gene Prevatt, Robert Mixon and I sped away from stealing all the fire extinguishers out of the wire factory in Port Wentworth ...
and I saw my Mom driving towards us so I hit the brakes so she's knows it's Gene and Robert and not me ...
my Dad believed the best remedy was to throw me in the Ocean.
"Salt Water cures everything," he'd say driving us to Tybee Island.
He and Mom would have alone time sitting in the car parked down front as Angie, David and I hit the beach.
Dad's gone now but he sure left me things to love and I love salt water.
It swims through my veins ... sticks to my skin ... falls from my eyes when my heart fills or breaks ... soothes my feet when they're sore ... seasons every pot I put on the stove ... kills ants ... heals my wounds faster ... makes things taste better and ... brings me luck when I throw a pinch over my shoulder.
It's impossible to hate salt water.
We were in Key West recently and the pools are all chlorinated salt water which, of course, I prefer over the bland stuff.
It's the time of year when, after the dinner dishes are put away and the girls are busy being girls and Sarah's got her feet up on the sofa rubbing Che in her belly, I make the short trek to the Sea.
Laying the glass of wine on the Beach, placing my I-Pod and hat on it so the Ocean breeze doesn't blow it over, my body slides in the salt water and there's a peace that passes all understanding.
Out of the Sea all life came.
It sure is nice to go back to be reborn on a consistent basis.
"You are the salt of the earth," Jesus says. "Don't hide it."
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