I'll not miss the window unit and its constant assault on the swelter. Volubly, with a cyclic growl, it has attempted a desperate, Quixotic alchemy of golden coolness wrought out of leaden humid heat. But then it is July in Key West. We didn't anticipate mountain air. We got the tropics we reasonably expected.
And any number of extra showers.
We walked the streets when taxis weren't justified. We dealt with myriad wedding details -- hair and face, flower and song, taste and vows and tables and chairs -- and we ate. Seafood, mostly. And Key Lime pie. I willfully lost count of how many pieces but Lori kept scrupulous tally. We watched for sunsets off the coast, but rain and its anticipatory clouding kept them largely veiled. Perhaps October, when we return, will find them liberated and free for the taking.
For now, encompassed by the treasure of special time alone with each other and with the wedding couple, we are headed home to a dry garden, a return to work, two busy puppies we have missed more than we like to admit, and "normal" life that most days already feels like something of a vacation. Blessed, and then doubly blessed.
Which is to comprehend all over again that going is good; returning is even better.
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