Home Sweet Home

Sunset on the Gulf

So, I did it. I mustered up all my nerve, scripped and scraped for every bit of courage I had, and got on the plane. It's been over a year since I've flown, so all those old reservations, those deep seated flying fears, all seemed to have resurfaced, brimming at the very top of my mind (and stomach). But I did it. And thank God I did because I quickly realized that much too much time has passed since I've been home.

I cannot describe the wonderful feeling I have in my heart when I watch Lina playing with all her cousins. This is what we've been missing in New York; A full house bustling with the best noises in the world--laughing, playing, kids rolling around, Mom cooking, Morty barking. Home. The only missing piece is Mike, who is flying down next week. Yesterday morning I walked down to the dock with Morty on his leash and Lina strapped to my chest, facing outward looking onto a world she has never seen before--wide open space nestled in that thick, humid Florida air that is somehow different from New York heat. The heat here sticks to you, the humidity dripping off of everything, the sunlight immediately penetrating your skin, giving you the feeling that you've been outside all day long, when really it's only been five minutes.

I introduced Lina to the ocean yesterday. She expectantly watched the calm water lazily lap against the sea wall, the Gulf seemingly feeling the same quiet contentment that we were. Lina kicked her little legs excitedly and squealed at the birds, as if she was trying to tell me that these birds were not like the noisy pigeons that live on our windowsill in Manhattan. These birds were different. And I knew what she meant. We stayed on the dock for a few more minutes, then walked our sunkissed shoulders back to Mom and Dad's.