Turtle Point

October 8, 2023

It was an unplanned spontaneous thing.

I planned my trip to the gym to coincide with being able to talk with my fitness coach. She’s a great gal that I’ve grown to consider a dear friend. I keep her apprised of my rambles so when I’m away for a while she’s not wondering if I’ve fallen into a hole or something. It’s a courtesy thing that I extend to a few dear ones.

There was a day, not so long ago, when it was extremely difficult for me to revisit places that Shirli and I visited together. Some of those places are absolute necessities as a matter-of-fact part of life … like our doctor’s office or the grocery store. We did all that stuff together. Other places are much more matters of the heart … the pleasant memories deposited that upon recollection or revisitation both dampens my eyes and puts a smile on my face. Yeah. It's kind of crazy.

I try to get out and do something every day. Go somewhere. See something. Do something other than listen to the ticking of the clock. Ah. I’m quite comfortable here in this little ram-shackle house beside this short-line track with its daily slow-moving train. It is my sanctuary. It is a little shrine that contains items that evoke pleasant memories of Shirli. It also triples as a studio for me. When I’m off on a ramble I always look forward to coming home. It’s no longer painful to come home. Home is no longer that place of brutal emotional pain that it was for so long. Developing and deepening relationships have found a definite place in always looking forward to coming home.

Shirli and I discovered Turtle Point after moving to the tiny house in the woods. We stopped in a couple of times before Tracy, Shirli’s sister, was here from Long Island in January of 2020 just before the huge Covid Calamity. We took Tracy to Turtle Point on one of our ride-abouts.

I visited with the gals inside when I got there. Though open to the public, it belongs to the school system. School children were there for a class. I didn’t know if I could be there or not with a class being taught in the indoor classroom. They told me it was perfectly fine.

It’s rather bizarre how I can be totally alone without feeling as though I’m alone.

Memories. Little things not thought of for years simply float out of the recesses of the back bays and bayous of my mind and the experience is just as real as the moment in time that captured them. It’s like taking trips back in time. I felt so close to Shirli and Tracy as I slowly meandered my way along the boardwalk that leads to Big Escambia Creek.

I didn’t see her, but just out of sight in the understory, a doe set off that blowing alarm that they use. She ran a short space and stopped to repeat the alarm. She did this three or four times. I figured it was a mama with a fawn or two and she was calling them to safety.

I sat for a long time at that little observation bump-out by the creek. Emotional? Yes. How could it not be. Utter emotional fall-apart like the so many that I had when the hole was dark and deep? Nah. Nothing like that.

Though going out was a slow mosey, coming back in took even longer.

It felt so good to be there. I didn’t want to leave. I felt like I was there with Shirli and Tracy and they were sitting with me and walking with me. I talked out loud to Shirli and I talked out loud to the Lord expressing my deep appreciation for their love and kindness toward me ... love and kindness that have fashioned me into the person that I am today.

Oh. I talk out loud a lot anymore carrying on one-sided conversations. Maybe this is one of the consequences of sleeping solo and waking solo. I don’t know. Maybe I should Google that. But what I do know is that dialog in conversation with people, especially with people who you can be transparent with, is vitally important to a sense of well-being and wholeness.

Not the best photo but the one I have of that beautiful January day.