There were only a few minutes of daylight left in yesterday so I made a quick dash to what’s becoming my second favorite go-to place for photos, Dutton Island. A lovely place, but… another sunset?

At least I changed from my Juicys and kicked on the ugly Dansko clogs before I went out there. Otherwise, well, better shoes and pants would have been ruined.

I was desperate for some macro shots but there was too much of a breeze and nature was blowing all over the place; even with the tripod it was no use. So I stupidly decided to walk to the edge of the water, where the wind was pushing at the water, making a frothy, pretty edging at the marsh. A few shots there – nice, but nothing special.

I looked around for something stationary to photograph, and saw clumps of ugly shells stuck to rocks near the dock. Okay. I walked through the wet sand muck and set the tripod. I shot several uninspiring photos of these shells, simply because they weren’t affected by the breeze… but then I started to sink in the muck. And I mean really sink! The tripod’s legs were stuck, as were my feet. I tried to extract myself but lost my shoe to the muck which I started to think of as quicksand! I was more worried about how to get the tripod (with my best lens on the camera) out of there if I was unable to move. Every movement just drove my feet further into the wet and slimy sand (a marsh is no beach). I gave up worrying about not getting muddy right away; it was futile anyway. My shoes were impacted inside and out, my pants, socks and feet were encased. I finally yanked out the deepest foot and freed the tripod with the camera and lens unscathed. (I got my shoes out too.)

All this for not a single good macro shot.

But I like this one, of the water at sunset. Still. It’s just water.

And I didn’t even take a picture of my mucky shoes as proof! I guess I just wanted to get hosed off – shoes, tripod, me, as quickly as possible!

There’s always tomorrow, though. Well, today. And it’s looking pretty lovely outside right now. What am I doing in here?

Meet my new jacket. I picked it up, marked down, at a local surf shop and I have to say, I’m in love with it. I call it my photographer’s coat. Just a few days home and it already has a special place in my heart. Funny about things, isn’t it? Every now and then you find something that is so instantly it, it’s as though you’ve had it for years, and it fills a void you didn’t know you had.

Hello, jacket. Meet my friends.

Out gallivanting returning some shoes today, I spied this adorable brown hat hanging in hats, scarves, and gloves. Yes, we do have winter here. Of a sort. I used to laugh at people who’d don gloves and coats when temps dipped into the 50s and today I am chief among them. But this isn’t a hat for keeping warm, it’s a hat for style and it called my name as I walked past it. So naturally I stopped to try it on. Since I recently had the straightening treatment on my hair it’s opened a whole new way of dressing, and hat wearing is but one of them. I put it on, and that was the end of it. Another old friend. Strange, how I keep meeting old friends in the oddest of places these days. I’m calling 2011 as being off to a very good start.

The last time I owned and wore a similar sort of hat, I loved it too. A girlfriend reminded me recently of how another girl had made fun of the hat (with me in it) in a ladies’ room on a Saturday night at a concert. I had been oblivious to the teasing, and maybe I’ll be deaf to it again but I’m just a little bit older now and I know this: I really like my hat.

In our own version of Times Square, or any number of crowd-thronging, drunken revelry sort of venue (we did not imbibe) we chose the low-key way to mark the passing of this year – 2010 – not exactly my favorite year of all time – and give a nod to 2011, which I have a feeling is going to be a better one all the way around.

At about 11:40pm we rousted our lethargic selves from the various parts of the house in which we were comfortably ensconced, and could have just as easily stayed put, lazily letting 2010 go. But no, we went out into the mild night at the coast and met up with our lovely neighbors and joined them on the short walk to the sand: the eastern seaboard of Florida, where the dads of the group set up some casual fireworks and we all enjoyed a half hour or so of happy new year-ing, the kids tackling each other in the sand; the youngest, a little out-of-sorts, her earlier insistence on midnight fireworks had waned. But it was nice to get out, and be with some other good people and welcome in 2011, another year ripe with possibilities for all. That’s how I’m looking at it.

I prefer to do what we did, than gather with a crowd in Times Square or some other amped-up crowd where people are not themselves for a night. But I’m not certainly not travel-averse. NYC, Charleston, anywhere would be nice – and travel’s on the 2011 agenda – but right here at atlantic beachlife, we’ve got ourselves a pretty nice lifestyle and lovely neighbors, and that is something to celebrate.

Happy New Year!

Honoring a young person who died, on the first birthday since he’s been gone, is one of those landmark times that only  the parent of a lost child can really understand.  To those of us who were close to him, his death is still so recent, and hearing or saying the words is somewhat unfathomable.  We stumble over phrases like Peter’s funeral because … really?  His funeral?  It doesn’t feel right to be saying that. But of course we do, because it did happen,  and because we won’t ever forget him. We carry on talking about him so no one feels timid about saying his name or bringing up something that they remember of him.    If people avoid ever speaking of a loved one gone tragically, I don’t think it makes it any easier on the mom or dad or sister; they miss him every day whether we bring him up or not.   True, there are times we’re hesitant, we tread gingerly, because we don’t want to be the one to  bring on the tears (although sometimes the tears are cathartic) when they are  with us and are, for the moment, thinking of something else and perhaps, even smiling.  So we’re careful.  But let’s not be too careful, for we wouldn’t ever want them to think that their beautiful boy is receding from our present world, or our thoughts.

It’s just plain hard, no matter how you look at it.

And so today is Pete’s birthday.  Today he would have been nineteen.

He was obviously  a great friend to so many – his friends are posting almost every day, still, to his Facebook page.  Telling of dreams they’ve had of him, sharing their memories, or aching with missing him.  After four months gone, that says a lot to me about the person he was.

I now think of him as like a fish, squirming, so inherently slippery, and in a flash, he slipped through our fingers despite trying to hold him, to keep him safe; he just wriggled through as a fish will do.  Like a flash, too, he swam away.  It’s what’s so stunningly unbelievable about it all.

There has been comfort in many ways, through the grace of God; as his aunt, I am thankful for those gifts.  I believe.

I believe he’s in Heaven, his soul no longer mortal like ours; his understanding like nothing we can comprehend due to the constraint of our humanity.   One day it will be our turn, and I believe that he, and the other souls I loved – my mother, my father-in-law, my grandparents, and even the sister I never knew – will meet us, and that will be something new. It won’t be like meeting as humans, with human relationships. Because we still live here, on earth, our  minds yearn for that full understanding but our faith tells us it’s a mystery.  Yet there is so much evidence of this, for those who pray quietly, with faith and trust, and who are still, and open enough to listen for it, to hear it. Yes, I yearn for more, for complete understanding, although I know that will come in the fullness of time.

Does it make the missing of him any easier?  Well, we miss him all the time; his parents and sister – they experience the loss on a deep and visceral level that a faraway aunt can’t possibly comprehend except through the spiritual gift of empathy.  But it’s not the same as actually having the breadth of their experience, and so I pray for them daily, and remember Pete daily.  On his birthday, and other special occasion days that matter deeply to us as living mortal beings, we want to remember him even more vigorously.  I can’t be at the special Mass in his honor with his family, so I will be there with my thoughts and prayers.  I can’t be at the pizza lunch his parents have planned for the family and his friends: which I think is just a wonderful way to remember him, for he was loved by so many.  And then they will visit him privately.  For this December 11 is Pete’s day, and I know that nineteen no longer means to him what it does to us, because he’s a soul that’s moved beyond needing years…while those of us still here, do.

Until the day comes, when we, too,  no longer need our years, we  try to be open to what God has in store for us. Whichever way that goes, and whether we like it or not, our free will remains.  How will we respond to the unexpected and painful things that happen to us, things that we might not understand? Or things that leave us deeply angry or wounded?   For me, it’s ever-changing.  I’m trying to be refined by the process.  Being that we’re all part of the Body of Christ whether on earth or in Heaven, I now have another soul to whom I can connect and relate, because he’s my nephew.  Gone too soon, but there for us all.

I have to say this, because I am still human and so this is my context, “Happy birthday, Peter.  Give my mom a kiss for me, and one for yourself too. Help us, help your friends – so many of us are on journeys that need God’s help.  Perhaps on your birthday there’ll be a little extra grace for us all, and most especially, your mom, dad, and sister.  You are missed so much.”

She has recently moved to the area, and I was telling her about Jacksonville, and its diverse neighborhoods, while she gave me a lovely blow out in a new beaches salon.

She hasn’t had a chance to really explore the area yet, but feels certain she wants to settle near the beach. I’m all for that, of course, but think about it. Jacksonville. Don’t we have so many unique and diverse places within the vast city limits (and yes, the beaches aren’t officially part of the City but you know…) where people can find their culture, and their tribe, and settle in a place that speaks to their soul?

I think it’s pretty great, and if there wasn’t that part of me that needed to live at the coast, I can think of several other places I’d be happy to call home within Jacksonville.

But, she wants to live at the beach, so naturally, I talked up my little corner of the world. She hasn’t been out here yet. We’re fairly eclectic and diverse, in that we’re a community of all ages and inclinations; families; singles; couples. People  want to live here for many reasons but are pretty much united in their passion for the beach and a need to be close to it.

What I love about it here rather than where she currently lives is its community vibe; the towns with pedestrian shopping and community activities, and the fact that at nearly every single single block, people can quite easily access the beach. Here, one doesn’t have to join a beach club or have oceanfront property to enjoy the expanse of sand and sea and all its glory. Most of us can just walk on over to it, or ride our bikes. Live a bit too far for that and there’s still beach access with parking available up and down Third Street.

It’s ‘the beaches’ y’all. It’s for everyone. Let’s hope she gets some time to explore ‘the beaches’ soon. Where ever she decides to settle, this entire region is lovely, and I’ll give you this: it’s true that there are more sharks’ teeth to be found down in her neck of the woods. Around here, though, she’ll have an easier time getting onto the beach.

Just sayin’.

She gives good hair, too.