Sweet Sanibel...

The last portion of our trip brought us to Sanibel Island. Our hotel was on a pristinely beautiful beach. Due to the ocean currents, Sanibel is known for having an abundance of excellent sea shells. With my feet in the sand, and warm waves rippling around my ankles, I was transported back in time. Muscle memory kicked in, and soon I was walking while staring for my favorite shells... augers, turkey wings, periwinkles, whelks. The names came back to me, and my eyes began to pick out the familiar shapes.  I was doing the "Sanibel Stoop," step, bend, scoop. The shadow the sun cast of me had the same wild hair blowing in the wind, but it's shape had changed from those years long ago when I first loved a beach like this. Still, I realized, the same spirit remained. The joy of hearing the splashing surf, smelling the warm salt air, and feeling the sun on my skin was as fresh and welcome as it had been in my sweet younger years, when I spent hours seeking shells and chasing my shadow on a beach very similar to this one.

When I was 11 or 12, my parents began spending a few weeks, and then a few months in the winter, on Longboat Key, near Sarasota. My first airplane ride was to meet them there, and every winter until I was 30 I spent precious time with them in Florida. My father particularly loved his time there.  On this trip, I began to understand a bit more why. A WWII veteran, he had worked diligently his entire life to support his family. While his efforts were fruitful, and we never wanted for anything, in many ways his life was hard and rather cold. The contrast of the soft warmth of Florida must have felt like a kindness to him. It certainly was a gift to me, the youngest by 7 years, to have time with them on that idyllic beach each year. 

And here I was with my beloved husband experiencing it all again. He joined me in shell seeking, got up to watch the sun rise with me, delighted beside me to see the pelicans swoop and dive. We held hands, swam and splashed in the warm water and it was all incredibly good. There is certain rhythm we often achieve when it is just the two of us together; so compatible and easy. After a week where we spent so much time together that our Fitbit's registered the exact same number of steps at the end of the day, we were relaxed, refreshed, contented.

The only curse of an excellent marriage is that one partner dies, the other is left feeling incomplete while they live out the rest of their days. I have worried since the time we wed about the inescapable truth that one day I might have to live without my soulmate at my side. There in the clear water of the gulf, feeling completely happy, it occurred to me, that though that day will eventually come, whichever one of us is left behind will be alright if we can just hold on to all the millions of moments that we had where we were as blissfully happy as we were right then. That will be the challenge to tide us over for the remaining days.