I turned my back on the Atlantic and pedaled the last two blocks from the beach to where Dorothy lives. She was expecting Jo and I to arrive here on Vilano Beach Island. Dorothy is a cousin of Sharon’s, a friend of mine who lives in Bend. She connected the two of us, being the Angel she is, she figured she would line us up with a soft place to land after reaching our destination in Saint Augustine.
Jo and I are welcomed, then pointed to a cozy room in the house where we could make ourselves at home. Dorothy is a chef. She was out in the kitchen preparing a delicious feast for us, and also offering sample after sample to Jo who sat there looking up at her with those eyes.
Nathaniel is a gifted singer songwriter. There’s a few guitars laying around the house so we sat up until it was late, picking a few strings, exchanging songs, filling their living room with the sound of music.
Dorothy wanted to show us around and I wanted to see Nathaniel in his element, performing an afternoon set at a pub in downtown. We didn’t leave the house until about three o’clock, first dropping Casey off, a housemate, at the marina where she planned on sailing away for the afternoon.
But she never left the dock because a storm blew in all of the sudden, dumping buckets of rain on everything for about an hour. The thunder that accompanied the showers had Jo wanting to hide under the chair at Stogey’s. It’s where Dorothy works and where we arrived to watch the street gutters nearly overflow as we stood inside, dry, looking out through the front door. Because of her love for music, they feature a regular cast of folksters, Dorothy booking the acts, those who perform live for an audience that is puffing on Havana’s.
After the storm passed over, we walked the streets of Saint Augustine, exploring as the original settlers might have, finding a place to sit and have dinner.
And now it’s a new day. I’m out here in the backyard, beside the swimming pool, under the umbrella that shades me from the morning sun. It’s a very peaceful place with a palm tree and a lounge chair and feels like my own private oasis, it feels like home.
It’s all a mystery to me. I don’t know what lays ahead in the days and weeks to come. I’m okay with not knowing. That’s what I tell myself anyways. I’m living by faith, just here in this moment, listening for that small voice to speak up inside me.