press of Time

Up a little later than intended and now, what?, not so much later as to be truly rushed, but later enough to feel a little Time press or lack of relaxation with the morning. Because now it's 25 miles on the highway, three bridges, Back Beach Road, instead of three delightful miles from StAndrews and along Beach Drive through town across Tarpon Dock Bridge into the Cove to church, now instead of leaving home about six-fifty-five in order to be at the church by a couple minutes after seven (Sunday mornings it's a seven minute drive from 7H to HNEC), these days of hurrication we leave SoWalton at six-thirty so as to arrive about seven. And now that the god-awful immediate-postHurricane traffic has evaporated, we enjoy the early morning light just as the sun makes itself obnoxiously bright in that thin clear space at the horizon just before disappearing into the clouds, glaring in our face as we drive east, just a hint at Philips Inlet Bridge and blindingly regardless of the sun visor, as we cross Hathaway Bridge. 

Living in the WashingtonDC area in my Navy days of driving an hour east toward the Pentagon, I found out about the early morning sun, that it's best to live east of the office so as to drive west in the morning and east after work in the evening. But both WashDC tours of duty we lived in Northern Virginia and, something about my Southerner sense of North and South, never bothered looking for a house in Maryland. Who wants to live Way Up North when you can live in Virginia?, so it was the sun in the morning and the moon at night.

Sunday morning breakfast, from the refrigerator, two fried chicken legs, drumsticks, the last of the box of fried chicken l bought Thursday noon. Cold chicken and sips of black coffee.

And to all a Good Morning.

T

pic: Saturday evening from the fifth floor roof open-air lounge, looking out over the Gulf of Mexico as the sun sinks into the sea.