I can’t help reflecting on Sanibel Island this week. Or, for that matter, much of Florida.
Every winter, my parents would head to Sanibel right after Thanksgiving, and stay until mid-December. Many, many times, I went with them, or met them there.
We stayed at a lovely little beach place called The Colony. It was steps from the sand, and the clear, turquoise waters. And the shells.
Sanibel is, or at least was, known for its unique attraction for the types of shells one couldn’t find at most other beaches in Florida. We never knew what we’d find, walking along the shore. But, we knew it would probably be in pristine condition. I truly cannot tell you how many hundreds of unusual and wonderful shells are in my collection. Even a perfect spiny oyster shell. And one of my favorites, whale eye shells. I have one that is three inches in diameter. It’s almost spooky!
I have a lamp with the big base filled with Sanibel shells. An occasional table in the living room that has not one titch of room left for an additional “occasion.” I’ve got shells, I think, in every room. Lots and lots of them. They are what led to my developing a tropical theme throughout my house. Sure, I live nowhere near the tropics. That doesn’t mean I might wish I did!
Last week, a mighty hurricane – one that turned out larger and more deadly than had been anticipated – devastated many of the charming, attractive towns on the Gulf Coast. Naples, Fort Myers, Pine Island, Punta Gorda, and Sanibel and its sister island, Captiva.
My heart aches. Even the big, concrete Causeway was broken in two. Folks living on the islands can’t get out, and no one can get in, unless they’re using a boat.
Hurricane Ian spread across the state, blew past Orlando – which, at about 100 feet of elevation, is pretty much Florida’s “high point.”
I worried about my friend who moved from Bath to Naples. Did her place survive? Did she? I couldn’t remember her phone number, so I couldn’t call to check on her.
I worried about my far less capable friend who lives near Daytona Beach. She can no longer drive, and she really has no initiative – no “get up and go” to get up and go. I called her the night the hurricane was raging. I didn’t figure the phone lines were in good shape, but nonetheless, I gave it a try. The phone rang four times, and then stopped. No voice mail. No electronic voices urging to “please try again later.”
But, I did try later. Lo and behold, she answered!
“Are you OK? How are things there?”
“Oh, they’re all right.”
“Where were you when I called earlier?”
“Oh, I was taking a nap.”
Yes, she was napping as the hurricane blew mightily across Florida. I felt silly for worrying about someone who, obviously, was not worried in the least.
Every night, we see on the news about the perils and hardships of those who once lived what we all thought of as “the good life.” Hundreds of thousands of them have lost everything. By Tuesday night, 108 people were counted among the dead. And, Sanibel and Captiva and Pine Island were still pretty much cut off from the world.
Thank heavens, nature has an uncanny way of repairing itself. The ruined cars and boats will eventually be hauled off somewhere. The surging waters will recede. And, those who can will rebuild their homes and their lives. I just hope and pray they get some water and some food and some help soon.
Life … sometimes, you gotta take what comes, and then, keep trudging along.
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