Delray Beach Musings

Last night, a friend and I went to see our other friend who sold her very big house in Ft. Lauderdale and moved to a glamorous apartment in Delray Beach.  We had a glass of wine at her place and then went downstairs to see where we wanted to eat.  We ate at a seafood/sushi place.  We ate outside, which sounds lovely, but it was sweltering.

I realize that just as I've spent the last weeks complaining about my weariness, I may have also mentioned the unrelenting heat.  Ugh.

As I drove home and heard about the fires in California, I thought about sweating through autumn.  We've usually had a small cold front by now, but there's nothing that looks promising to our north.  I thought about how I no longer know whether my sweating is due to global warming, menopause, and/or some fever flaring occasionally.  I wondered if I could write a poem about that.

As we looked at restaurants, I ruled some out because they seemed too loud.  At some point, I told myself to quit being so fussy, which is how we ended up sitting outside.  There were ceiling fans above us, but they didn't offer much resistance against the humid, hot air.

Am I becoming a little old lady, years before my time?  But in some ways, I've always been a little old lady:  I like the early bird special (none to be had at Delray Beach, or maybe we weren't early enough), I like a quiet environment so that I can hear my companions, I go to bed early (although there won't be many early bedtimes this week).

When I think about my friend's new location, it seems so perfect.  But I remind myself that calories are still calories--she can't eat out every night for the same reasons that I can't (calories, price, calories, price).  And while part of me sees the swarms of people on the streets as a sign that a place is happening/vital, part of me years for something more contemplative.

Contemplative and cooler--by which I mean the temperature, not the hipness.

I think about when we first moved down here, back in 1998.  I wish we had stretched a bit financially, bought a shabby house just off the main drag.  But even then, it would have been too much of a financial stretch--and Delray Beach is just far enough north that commuting back to our jobs in Broward county felt like a challenge.

To be honest, we didn't really consider it--that's a memory created by reflections in hindsight.  Maybe I should write a Wordsworthian poem:  Lines recollected at midlife influenced by reflections in hindsight. 

But I do remember taking out of town visitors to Delray Beach, exploring the interesting shops, wondering what it would be like to live there.  And once, long ago, my in-laws stayed in a time shore just across the ocean--which is a different setting in Delray Beach than in beaches to the south.  The beach side of the road isn't developed, and there are dunes protected by vegetation.

And now it is time to get ready for the day:  spin class and then off to work, followed by a county-wide church justice event.  Let me pack some extra veggies.