Winter was waning when we took a big step and grew wings, invested in a small snow-bird condo in Pompano, Florida. Bill still had NJ obligations trying to get rid of his father’s men’s hat business. The old fedora felt hats were long gone. Kids, even screwy looking old men, wear baseball caps backwards. They must be afraid of Red Necks. I know I am. No interest at all in re-modeling the sprawling factory, converting it to making engines, TV. components, nada. We squeezed the very last dollar out of the loser and went Gung Ho South, that is, after we donated all of our warm up suits, heavy sweaters, quilts to Good Will. The furniture we sold for a pittance. As tired as we were, the excitement rejuvenated our love life, gave us an extra dose of hope.
Bill and I were not paupers but took care not to go overboard setting up our new home, our lives. I tried to decorate our new place myself but knew I was messing up. Two decorators, annoyed me so out they went. The third was a jewel, kept everything in our price range and helped turn the small house into a big plus. Our new love nest molted no feathers.
A few steps across the private parking area, was the convenient swimming pool, the daily hang out of our neighbors, new friends. Everyone rowed the same boat. We had all left the north and our years of sharing our lives and friendships. Now we searched until we all found a good balance and our lives went on. Backgammon at the pool, Scrabble on the terrace, Charades on the patio. We were living a full time party. It was one helluva whirlwind.
I almost drowned but learned to swim, spent hours in the sun, burning to a crisp. Doris, my new best friend warned me but stubborn, pig-headed, red headed stupid me pooh poohed her away. As the sun was going down, I crossed the parking lot, went in the house to cool myself. A glass of wine just happened to be handy. I turned on the stereo records and totally relaxed, went into a place I didn’t remember going, Utopia. My bathing suit wasn’t quite dry so I took it off, put it in the washing machine and changed into a comfy smooth, soft silk jump suit. My glass needed filling. The music reached my insides, made me dance, dance alone, twirl, spin and sing. Frankie, Johnny, I sang along and thought I was their equal while a speck of reality told me to enjoy but keep my mouth shut. Damn, I was having fun. My arms were around a ghost who held me close. I had reached Nirvana.
In the middle of one dervish spin I saw him. Standing in the doorway was Bill. He was watching me with the biggest smile on his face I had ever seen. It was brighter than the treacherous sun. I stood dead still, right on a dime. Embarrassed, ashamed of my antics, I turned and started to run towards the bathroom. I wanted to be anyplace except with my laughing hyena husband.
He grabbed me, pulled me to the sofa, put my legs up and undressed me. My head was throbbing as the boom, boom, boom of Ravel’s Bolero got louder and louder. The rythmn was contagious for both of us.
When we and the music were complete, I looked Bill in his sweaty eyes, smiled and said, ‘Sure beats, NJ, doesn’t it?
No comments:
Post a Comment