I had the opportunity yesterday for some quiet time. I wasn't feeling too hot so I did not go to town with B. Darn, missed another chance to go to our little grocery store.
Around here, alone time is hard to come by. One of the sometimes bad side effects of being retired is that we are always together. Most of the time I love that, but once in awhile it is nice to just have alone time. Time to think. Time to plan. Time to remember. No music, no TV, no having to maintain 1/2 of a conversation. I normally hate being alone, but sometimes the soul just needs it.
I sat for awhile on our front porch. Watching the ocean and listening to the sounds of the neighborhood and the water. Except there weren't any. It took me a bit to realize how absolutely quiet it was. It was an exceptional time.
The ocean was just plain lazy and acted worn out and old. The occassional wave would come to shore, flipping over at the last moment to expose its' white belly before disappearing without a trace or memory of it on the shore.
The piercing call of a blackbird could be heard. But not very often. It sounded like even they could not get enough oxygen out of the humidity laden air to even bother to announce their territory.
The road out front, usually a busy highway between the south and north ends of the island, was almost deserted. A few golf carts, laden with surprisingly quiet tourists, meandered past. Just lazily driving along and enjoying the tremendously blue and clear water of the ocean. Rocks were clearly visible just below the surface, creating darker blue blobs amidst the blue topaz of the water.
Locals drove by on motorscooters. They are normally fast little machines, buzzing by at breakdown speed. Their owners and riders always with a purpose and goal at the end of the road. Even they were different yesterday. It was like nobody had the energy to turn the throttle up high. Or any great desire to get where they were going.
I watched the lazy scenes unfolding before for as long as I could take it. Then I took a nap.