Mental Viagra

My job is getting me down. I came home at midnight Friday from the west coast of Florida after a 2 hour drive on the Alligator Highway. A straight, harrowing shot through the Everglades. It was a hard day, a hard week. Another 60+ hour week.

Yesterday I woke and didn't want to leave the house. The blues were wrapping all around me. I tapped around on the computer a bit, reading depressing news. I then had to call Matt for something while he was at work, and he told me it would rain Sunday, so if I wanted to get to the beach, I better do it today.

I was out the door in 30 minutes.

The parking lot wasn't full! Yay! I paid the meter, took my sandals and water bottle and engaged in on of my favorite pastimes, walking the shore. The best way to get some exercise and work on the tan.

The beach was crowded with families stretched under bright umbrellas, opening coolers, eating sandwiches, playing paddleball, and jumping in the water. The giant straw hats of old women dotted the ocean as they waded with each other like water buffalo, cooling off in the African heat. Latino accents and Cuban music filled the air. A Jamaican family sat in the shade of the palms making crafts. An old rastafarian with giant, greying dreads runs past barefoot, in perfect and sublime shape.

During my walk, I enter the warm, tourquiose water. I float over the gently chopping waves until the worries of the past week leave me. This is better than any drug, any words of encouragement. This is therapy at its very finest.

I never thought I'd like to live in flat Florida. Lord knows I hated flat Dallas. I always saw myself in mountains. But now, I will never leave the ocean, never leave the beach again. I will also never live through another cold winter if I ever can help it.

South Florida. I live here!