key west or bust

   Some Monday nights I go to the grocery store, watch Intervention, and call it a night. I am content in the fact that I am not working, that I have snacks and peanut butter nearby, and that my feet don't hurt. 

   Or sometimes I end up in Key West, sitting on this balcony with Drew, 

listening to a live band with a fierce trumpet player crank out some bossanova. And while they break, I can hear the ocean lapping against the shore while the rest of us stand mystified, happy to be party to the nightly pull between waves and sand, moon and wind. 

  Last night we decided to drive to the bottom of our country, so well, we did. 

  We set out this morning, after having eaten out oatmeal and raisin bran crunch, respectively.

   Drew was lucky enough to put on my red sunglasses and I was lucky enough to be with him.  

   Even if we hadn't had a GPS navigating for us, we would have known we were on the right course as soon as we saw this:
   And any lingering doubts we might have had were completely erased by this:
  Truly, this was one of the most beautiful drives we have ever been on. Just a clear expanse of water as far as one can see on either side; the horizon barely indistinguishable from the gulf of Mexico as we drove through, aware of how small we really are, amazed by the beauty of this world.
   And this is what it looked like on our GPS. It looked more like we should have been on a duck tour than in a car, but there you go.
   And then we got here, just 90 miles from Cuba. Every hotel, every restaurant, every thing that could be bought or sold boasted being the southernmost (hotel, restaurant, seashell, etc.) in the country.
    But no, we are not staying at the southernmost hotel in the country. And frankly, we are okay with that. We are staying here, however, and frankly, we are okay with that too.

    Just beautiful. 

Just us.