Even though, according to the calendar, the rainy summer season is over, those of us in south Florida are still being held down by some seriously oppressive weather. The rain has been persistent and unforgiving, leaving many areas around saturated at best and flooded out at worst. And the heat hasn’t relented much either, turning our home into an unbearable sauna. Because of this, my heart aches for the cooler air of Tallahassee, the orange in the leaves, the warm coffees… while my spirit stands by, sweating bullets.
And then when I just can’t take sweating through another shirt a really old guy in a Bentley with a Pennsylvania license plate tries to run my baby and me over in the Whole Foods parking lot and I just have to laugh so I don’t scream.
Sometimes (like right now, for example) Dan will take Dax and let me go out and about on my own, with my lap top and some books and my journal, to let me have some time to myself to explore this new-to-us town without corralling a tiny, adorable little human who loves to climb all over me and sign, MILK PLEASE MILK PLEASE PLEASE MILK MILK PLEASE.
A few weeks ago, during one of my little outings, I went to the nearest coffee shop after dinner. While I waited in line for my latte, I looked around the room to spot a suitable place to set up shop. Most of the best places inside were taken, but all of the outdoor tables were open. I cringed at the thought of sitting outside but decided to bite the bullet for the sake of alone-ness.
Oh how glad I was to do so!
Sitting out in the open, I was pleased to find that when the sun goes to bed, it takes with it most of the stifling heat and humidity of the day to make room for silent heat lightning, cooler temperatures, and a soft breeze.
The thing about where I live is that once you’ve noticed a few key things — sunsets, beaches, palm trees — there really isn’t much else. It’s like God just CTRL C CTRL V’d all down this coast. That isn’t a bad thing, by any means. I mean how much better can life get? It just makes writing a column like this a bit more challenging.
Either way, something about nightfall transforms this place. It’s like when the sun sets, it hits a giant reset button. The hot, sticky, wet day we’ve suffered through is over and done with and we can finally exhale. With the drop in temperature, evaporation of moisture, and a duller hum, everything seems a bit more human. A little more what I’m used to.