Ten years with melanoma...

"My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of an indrawn tide."
                                                               Pat Conroy ~ The Prince of Tides

And, indeed it does. There is something wondrous, affirming, dependable...about the coast for me. I love the beach with its ocean breeze, returning waves, and beautiful creatures. I love the gulls' raucous call, the incredible road runner legs the sanderlings and pipers possess, ghost crabs scuttling sideways by, the tiny fish and sand fleas darting in the shallow tide, the lucky sighting of more mysterious creatures like the dolphins with their seemingly ever joyful frolicking or the slightly sinister ray half buried in sand.  I can happily watch the tiny, rainbow colored coquina clams wriggle up and down in the sand as waves wash over and uncover them for hours.  I love the shells and sand dollars.  In fact, one summer I set myself to the task of learning about each and every one that could be gathered on the Florida panhandle.  I read every book related to the topic our library offered and at one time, could tell you their habits, predators, life cycle, and shell architecture.  The knowledge has dissipated over time, leaving but an enjoyable memory and appreciation for the complexity of their lives.  Since I was a little girl, I have always loved to find small isolated tide pools created by departing tides, leaving their treasures behind.  I have found jelly fish, small sharks, mermaid purses, Portuguese Man o' War, and this trip....even a starfish! And of course, my biggest prize of all, getting to see Sally the Sea Turtle lumber toward the sea after leaving her eggs almost three years ago.

But, my heart is made even more content by the tides and creatures of the bay. The mullet jump  enticingly...just tempting you to try to catch them.  Tiny schools of  growing trout, spot tails, and drum dart in and out of the reeds. Herons watch carefully, heads tilted just so, from the banks. Blue crabs, hermits, and slightly disturbing black, hard shelled crabs go about their business.  Mocking birds, red winged blackbirds, and terns twitter and squawk as the pelicans fly in stately formations above.  Gulls flap and screech when osprey circle over head, with an occasional dip in the bay after fish. Tides in the bay are truly dramatic, changing quiet pools to running currents, to sand bars, within hours.  Life in motion.  Ever changing, but reassuring none the less.

We have been spending this week together while the kids are between summer and fall semesters on St. George Island, off Apalachicola, Florida.  I have lost count of our trips here.  This year, we are in Gone Fishing; a rental house we have visited twice before.  Our first visit to this home was 10 years ago, in July. I celebrated my birthday on that trip.  A dark mole on my back had been nagging at me, and during that trip, with increased visibility due to swim suits, Brent became even more worried.  We decided on my return home, I would make an appointment with a dermatologist.  It is bittersweet that this week, I celebrated my ten year survival after my initial diagnosis of melanoma on August 14, in the same exact place our worry spurred action. 

In Brent-like fashion, the date was not forgotten.  It was celebrated!  He even managed to MacGyver a fabulous surprise!  Suddenly, as I was about to serve a little snack of prosciutto wrapped shrimp....he shouted, "Wait a minute!  I didn't know you were doing that now!!!", while running from the room.  Moments later he returned, with a big plastic bag from one of the local swim/grocery/bait shops.  Within, a small box (Later discovered to be a Benadryl container...a purchase necessitated by the monumental red welts and swelling that currently make up his lower legs after an impressive reaction to yellow fly bites!!!) was carefully wrapped in a napkin (????, conveniently taped with bandage tape brought hither to deal with my absent pinkie skin!) appropriately decorated with mortarboards and brightly colored boxes and carefully utilized so that the "Congrats GRAD" was not visible. (Apparently, the visitors before us had celebrated a graduation of some sort and a couple of these celebratory napkins had been left behind in the dispenser. I had seen Brent fingering these earlier, and though noting it, had thought nothing of it since he has some, shall we say, mildly autistic tendencies, that require him to experience things in a tactile fashion as well as a visual one!) The inscription on the package read:  August 14, 2013 to Les, 'Ten Year Turtle Award'.Within was a "carved bone" (read plastic) locket of a turtle on a macrame necklace. And, yes....I cried. Happy tears.  Just as suddenly, Fred popped the cork on some bubbly that had been ninja-ed into the house as well.

So...here's to my peeps.  The past ten years have been hard, unexpected, scary, and not exactly pain free.  They have also been beautiful, full, productive and something I would never have wanted to miss...despite the negatives.  Just this week, thanks to Fred's sharp eyes, we got to see a mockingbird attack a gigantic owl, who must have been too close to its nest...and win. Due to his amazing powers we all got to see a gar, hovering in the deep shadows of the inlet which during the outbound tide, became an incredibly strong current toward the bay, where the gar hid...waiting for weaker, unsuspecting fish to pass into his "gently smiling jaws"!  With Rosie, I got to kayak the tidal pools and inlets surrounding our dock....as well as a little foray into the bay proper!  I have run many miles this week, solely due to her encouragement. Bentie smiles and lends his hand....always ready to stroll on the beach he knows I love.  He runs there....hoping to find shells he knows I will like.  Ruthie, says, "Why, no!  Running at 0700 does NOT sound like a vacation!!!", but checks on me and supports me just the same.  Others....via facebook, text, and calls...let me know they care and share their lives with me.  There are even strangers....who just today, let me know that they have been reading and listening...and that...in some small way...we have connected and both our lives have been made better...sometimes when that has had the least likelihood of seeming possible.

Yes....my soul grazes like a lamb, on the beauty of indrawn tides. May you find that which refreshes yours. 

To another ten years. Love - c