33 months ago PinF arrived in his present neighborhood with all the baggage that goes along with a major life change. Not an hour into my residency I was met by a goateed man who appeared to be in his mid-seventies who proceeded to lecture me about my late buddy Peabody's independence. Apparently my twenty pound Maine Coon's wandering proclivities irked my "nosey" neighbor, and he let me know to keep my cat in check. I remember bridling my words mainly due to his age, though annoyed all the same that his first words were not those of welcome, but rather of complaint. An onerous beginning at best.
Of course life is never that clear cut or obvious. You have to scratch the surface to find the real diamonds of life, something that in retrospect couldn't be truer. Turns out my neighbor was just a gruff guy, not exactly schooled in personality endearment. I met his wife one day and offered to carry her groceries and from that point on things only got better, which is kind of ironic since things for me personally kept getting worse. First it was the hurricanes that almost blew my abode down and left me without power for 8 days, and then on the heels of this my father's auto accident that would set into motion six months of decisions, eventually resulting in my father's death. By this time Don was emotionally invested in me and checked in on my well being often.
Oddly enough, or shall I say coincidentally, we both came to discover that we had more in common than either of us could have imagined. I saw my neighbor Don in a Phillies hat one day during the power failure period and we got to talking, and to my surprise it turns out Don too was from Philly-Springfield to be exact. From this point on Don I always talked sports, Philly, and news. We became really good friends, he followed my father's illness, offered to help me in anyway possible whether it be feeding my cat, to collecting my mail, whatever he could do -- he wanted to. His wife Doris was a real nice neighbor too, always chatting to Sophie and asking her about her new kitten after Peabody passed away. Turns out, Don and Doris are cat lovers too, and have 3 huge cats, so his initial remarks were based upon his fear of may cat messing with his. Little did he know Peabody was the original feline pleasure sponge of inactivity an laziness.
Don, I come to find out, is actually 81, and a hearty 81 at that. We always rap sports when we see each other, he's now a Dophins fan after so many years in Florida so of course I chide him on jumping ship on our boys back in Philly. About a week ago I was on my way out and bumped into Don and we had our usual small chit chat and I very casually asked, albeit rhetorically, how he was doing. What came out was the type of answer that you're never quite ready for, nor even know how to repspond to when presnted in such an innocuous manner. Don told me as his eyes filled up that he had just been diagnosed with esophagal cancer, and that he and Doris were reeling from the news and trying to formulate a plan of treatment. I was stunned, and he was near tears even telling me. He's old school, and he quickly recovered and said he had to get moving to a doctor's appointment.
I'd been thinking of Don since he told me the news, and noticed I hadn't seen him as much lately, that was until this morning when I went out to my car and bumped into Don again. He looked a bit gaunt and ashen though his spirits seemed a bit better. I was bit better prepared this time and asked how it was going and if he had made a decision regarding the treatments. He had, but he acknowledged he was scared as hell, this was unsettling and I let him know that I didn't want to intrude but that I was here for he and Doris. I told him, anything I could do whether it be taking out the trash, driving he or Doris anywhere--anything, they need only tell me and I'm on it. My words felt hollow as I looked into his gray face and welled eyes, for I knew his thoughts were much deeper and much more distant than my offerings.
So here I was, again with a man on the verge of tears with nothing more to offer than simple friendship and suportive words. He shook my hand and thanked me. I drove away to the car wash, taking special notice all the beautiful things around me that I take for granted everyday. The palm trees, the big low lying puffy clouds, and the rising new day sun. My worries of a lonely holiday and petty concerns all in check now as I drove along to the drone of 24 hour Christmas carols on the car radio. I suspect things will happen rather quickly, though I hope he beats it, though he and I both know what lies in store. So it's Christmas, a time when emotions run deeper, though for Don and Doris this would be an understatement. For what it was worth I invited Don and Doris to Christmas Eve mass, figuring they could probably use a little diversion while I explained Sophia is an angel in the production of the childrens mass, and that he and Doris might get a kick ouf of seeing her.
Of course I was thinking of the prayer side of the equation and I think he got my point.
Having successfully navigated the emotionally filled and often misdirected intentions of the holiday season, I had today to rediscover what I increasingly find hard to either truly embrace or find time for in my busy life--- taking time just for me. Sophia's Christmas a success, thus making mine enjoyable as well, it becomes a little clearer everyday that life does indeed slowly recoil into that which was familiar after major life changes. I now sit under an evening sky that I'm not quite sure my just-taken photo will convey, so I'll try to describe it in two words. Heaven's glow. The westerly receding sun has splashed traces of pink and lavender throughout the high scattered puffy Caribbean-borne clouds, leaving in its wake a palette of colors that only the heavens could paint. A perfect ending to a perfect day.
he Ipod and then back to reading again. I am cognizant enough of the day to recognize that life is indeed good and for this fact I am grateful to have this day. Lots of love surrounds my thoughts and indeed my chair as I see young mother's with their babes touching the ocean for the first time, reminding me of 9 years ago when Sophia, at just 3 weeks old first had her tiny toes dipped into the warm gulf stream fueled elixir. I see behind the haze of my music, old people gingerly navigating themselves through the sand, careful not to fall yet determined and somehow renewed by that which probably contains more powerful memories than any mountain or meadow in their lives--the ocean. 
Yes this is my day. Drifting in out of my book, sipping ice cold water, and disappearing in and out of different times and places with people who've either shared, touched, or left my life through the music that now flows non-stop in my ears. What caught my attention over the volume of music I'm not sure. A kind of sixth sense I suppose as I turned my attention to the sea and the crowd gathering along the shoreline, a rescue most likely, or maybe a shark sighting. This is after all tourist season in Florida when drownings spike often due to ignorance of the conditions and currents. Sadly, this would be the only thing that could shatter such beautiful bliss and relaxation. And so, like the dozens who've gathered before me, I remove my music, grab my camera and make my way to the water. 
hat was really happening. This was just one more confirmation of the restorative and calming powers of the ocean, as a couple had arrived to be married in front of hundreds of beach goer's. Instantly the "church" was filled as the bathing suit-clad congregation piled into the service, young and old, black and white--all pulled from whatever had been captivating their attention moments before now gathered in a semi-circle as the barefoot bride and groom exchanged vows with a turquoise blue ocean backdrop. 
ople who were complete strangers moments before were now commenting, joking, oohing and ahhing. The woman officiating the service was crying as the bride read her own vows, even a few of the congregation began contributing salty tears to the already salty ocean. No one was prepared for this, so it really was quite neat--not to mention unique. PinF has seen many receptions on the beach, but never had I seen a commando wedding just pop up during the height of the beach going day, again more evidence of the love that abounds with people near the ocean. As if there is some unseen power that emanates from the ocean, or is it like J.F.K. once observed that humans have an affinity to the ocean that can be traced to the earliest life forms on earth, this and the fact that humans, like our planet, are comprised of 75% water?
Christmas Eve arrived with little left for me to do except secure a new halo for my angel and revealed to us a full moon on a muggy unseasonably warm night. With this task completed Sophia and me took in a little lunch and enjoyed the balmy weather, something that had I not been from the north might have been taken for granted. Christmas Eve represented Sophia's last run as an angel as the cut off point is 4th grade.
We arrived in the angel's "locker room" before mass to an array of tiny people cloaked in sheep skins, adorned in silks, and flowing about in halo's and wings. Sophia commented to me that many of the angels this year looked so tiny. I reminded her that it was only 4 years ago on this night when she and I arrived, herself looking tiny too. She was only 5 years old and was so filled with excitment to be an angel. It got me to thinking just how fast time is going. Thankfully, this warp speed of time includes both the painfully excrucuiating moments as well as the intensely joyous one's.
33 months ago PinF arrived in his present neighborhood with all the baggage that goes along with a major life change. Not an hour into my residency I was met by a goateed man who appeared to be in his mid-seventies who proceeded to lecture me about my late buddy Peabody's independence. Apparently my twenty pound Maine Coon's wandering proclivities irked my "nosey" neighbor, and he let me know to keep my cat in check. I remember bridling my words mainly due to his age, though annoyed all the same that his first words were not those of welcome, but rather of complaint. An onerous beginning at best.
