i am aching to be near water. now it seems surreal that 12 yrs ago i lived four blocks from the ocean. lucky, and so young, i was. some days after work i'd walk down 8th st., turn left at ocean drive, pass versace's ostentatious mansion, andwhen i reached the self-appointed flamenco dancer in front of mango's i would cross to the beach, where i'd sit with my chin resting on my arms resting on my knees, watching the water. just for half an hour or so. long enough to take a few deep breaths without inhaling neon and silicone. even in vainglorious miami there's a teeny space for peace, in the early evening, by the water.
i haven't seen the
ocean in ten years. it won't be this summer, either. but i'd settle for a lake. one night, maybe two, on a lake. i want to wake up early and have coffee outside, before the water is torn open by boats and skis, squealing children and drunken twentysomethings. i want to take a walk and lay in a hammock...make veggie skewers on the grill for dinner...stay late into the evening on the deck, next to the water. i want to drink beer and listen to funny stories, and as it gets darker i want the noise and chatter to trickle away, and i want everything to be still, except for whatever is crawling in the brush.
and if i can't have a lake, then...a picnic...the botanical gardens...a few quiet evenings in a backyard...a nighttime drive or two, just because...a dinner cooked entirely on the grill...
32 days left.