Home as a Destination

I made a list the end of last year, when I experienced what it was like to go back into an emotional relationship that had previously ended badly, but somehow I thought that I could fight that windmill and win, with happily ever after written in letters across the sky.

Needless to say, I definitely did not win that particular battle.

Anyway, I digress, as I am wont to do lately. Call it age. Or perhaps bad focus.

When I was a young kid (my editors at the newspaper would faint...not kid, but child), I pasted photos of Afrika all over my bedroom (all snatched from Life magazine, with a couple thrown in from National Geographic). Strewn about the photos of elephants and rhinos and intelligent apes were Land Cruisers. Toyota Land Cruisers.

I had always wanted one. And, one day, with my father's $200 and a tow truck to pull it out of the swamp, I owned one, complete with rotted clutch, bad tires and rusty rivets. But, by gawd, it was a Land Cruiser. A 1973 FJ40...and it was yellow. It sucked driving in the rain, because the wipers never really worked. The metal seats, thinly covered in some sort of plastic material that defied cleaning, were hard to sit in for longer than an hour and good golly, how it rattled down the road. But, when I drove it, I was tumbling down a path in Kenya, seeking out wild game – and shooting gorgeous shots of them with my Nikon.

I also loved dogs, and Scotties in particular. I met my first Scottie at the Humane Society, where I adopted Maggie, an old ex-breeder past her prime, already gray in the beard. I adored her. And, she was the first of many, many Scotties who became my friends and companions over the next 30 years.

I wanted to fall in love and get married. Which I did, and gave birth to a beautiful girl-child, whose father was gorgeous and funny and sometimes he talked like a duck, to my delight,. The world held such promise. Things happen as things do, and I ended up raising that babe on my own, and sometimes I wonder how her life would have been had her daddy stayed. Where would we be now, I wonder. How would our lives have all turned out if things had not turned inside out. But they did.

I wanted desperately to travel the world, to see the other side of this big round ball of rock and lava and salt water. I have traveled. To Ecuador and Buenos Aires. To Paris and Barcelona. To Madrid, Dublin, London and Florence. Yes, I have traveled. I have lived in many places, too. Atlanta, Jacksonville, Orlando, New Orleans...and many other places in-between.

My request to the Universe for this year was to own a Jeep, live closer to the ocean and meet a man who understood me and didn't worry about the dents and dings in my armor or the crinkles at the edges of my eyes. By January 31, I owned a Jeep. In late February, I met a man who, although doesn't talk like a duck, makes me laugh. And on April 30, I moved into a house I can call my own, three blocks from the ocean and one block from the river.

I could not have had any of this without people in my life who truly care about me and love me, be it a familial love or a love born of friendship. People who ask nothing in return for their help and support. I wish I could be in such a position as to help someone who needs it – financially, physically or emotionally. I have learned the power of unconditional love.

When I drive home from work along the ocean, and watch the pelicans as they fly to their mysterious homes wherever they may be, I realize how truly wonderful it is to live near my beloved ocean. I can hear the waves from my bedroom window and wake to see the sun come up over the palm trees. My home will be my paradise. A paradise from which I will explore, and be happy to return to. A home for my dogs, and a place of retreat after a long day's work. A home where I have a studio for my art, a warm bed in which to sleep and a roof to protect me from rain.

I am happy.