Sunday, November 18, 2007

"Leave This City"

Hi, my name is Carter, and I live in Florida.

Sorry, it’s taking some getting used to.

Living in the Sunshine State has been a bit of a mind trip so far, aside from having to readjust from the notion that I’d never live here (people under 80 don’t move to Florida) and actually winding up here (at 31).

It’s strange to drive around town and see real live palm trees everywhere and not the plastic ones in the parking lot of the local seafood restaurant. It’s strange to step outside in October and immediately start sweating. It’s strange to not see orange leaves anywhere in the fall. It’s strange to be living in a state I’ve only ever associated with Cannibal Corpse, spring training, Mickey Mouse and geriatric Yankees.

Most of all, though, it’s strange to leave a town with palm trees and warm weather to drive to the beach—which isn’t that far away and also features palm trees and equally warm weather.

A few weekends ago, Stacey, Connor and I ducked out of town and headed to a beach condo owned by a family member in St. Augustine—a perk that’s been far better than any dowry I could have hoped for.

For as long as Stacey and I have been together (and a bit longer for her), this has been our usual and favorite vacation spot, taken usually with family, sometimes with friends and occasionally with both. Going there is a BIG deal. The trip is preceded by a little bit of planning, a lot of anticipation and half-a-day in the car.

Now, it’s a relatively short drive away, and we have a three-year-old who can actually appreciate the ocean air, salt water and riptide better than our adult bodies ever will.

I’m sure that being this close to the ocean (and the prized family condo) will be both blessing and curse; Connor knows that we’re hours and hours away from our families, and he’s a little sad about it, but he definitely knows how close we are to the beach.

...and don’t think he hasn’t asked to go more than once or twice.

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