Florida – LiviKnit

I like to think of my life in chapters. The first chapter would obviously be my childhood where I grew up in a large Irish-Catholic family with all the challenges and joys inherent therein. While the teen years are still part of childhood, for me, looking back, it was a new chapter filled with insecurities, bad choices, a bit of fun, and some life-changing events. My third chapter, filled with college independence, learning to fly, and being on my own, while scary and challenging, would have to be high on my list of happy times.

Chapter four brought a new life with a young husband, lots of moves around the country, having children and raising them mostly alone. It entailed learning a new career, a new hobby, and finally struggling to find a way to survive a dysfunctional relationship while bringing up healthy adults. 30 years is a long time in the institution when it’s a good marriage. When it’s not, it’s a jail sentence. In chapter five, after a contentious divorce, I moved from Michigan to Florida. With my grown kids starting their own lives, I left behind a shuttered business, a foreclosed home, and a broken family in an attempt to pick up the pieces of what was left of my life and start fresh in the sunshine state.

Moving on isn’t easy. Change can be scary. A second failed relationship had me questioning my choices. I eventually found work in the healthcare field of home health, then found my niche in hospice. In chapter six I finally purchased my own place. Being totally independent gave me the faith in myself that I needed to really start fresh. I put my past behind me and learned to depend on ME, slowly regaining a confidence I thought was lost forever. With a move so far from home and being alone, I consoled myself with the somewhat hopeful thought that people like to visit warm places in the winter, and maybe, with time, that would happen. It eventually did, and I found I could relax and enjoy sharing this little slice of heaven with others without feeling like I had to explain any longer why I was there.

In chapter seven. I believed I’d met my last love. I (mostly) retired, moved into a 55+ community, and brought my wonderful 93-year-old mom into our home to live out her days with us. I had kids and grandkids just a few miles away. The future seemed so promising. But after the wretched COVID year of 2020, life with him changed forcing me into yet another failed relationship. My mom had to go back to Michigan where she died a month later. My kids moved back north. I went into a tailspin.

Chapter eight was one of healing, moving, trying to find my place after a very long and broken road. I ultimately landed in a lovely condo in the trees of Palm Coast, just a mile from the peace of the ocean. I was completely independent, slowly learning how to trust myself by giving it all to God, the Universe, whatever you want to call it. I started manifesting my future as I’d wished it would be. And as I grew closer to some of my siblings, I learned to be happy and content with my life.

The next chapter is still hard for me to grasp. Chapter 9 has come with the fulfillment of all my dreams! In my gratitude to God, I was brought the most wonderful man who has shown me what real, grown-up, unselfish love is. I’ve moved to his home in The Villages. Daily I am grateful and thankful, and we both shake our heads at how lucky we are to have found each other.

I anticipate wonderful chapters ahead! I’m actually one of those people who will often read the end of a book first so I’m prepared for what’s coming. I can’t do that in this situation. I will simply have to expect the unexpected, make plans but not plan on them, and meet each new day with Irish optimism and the belief that in following God’s plan for me, I cannot go wrong. Would I go back and rewrite some chapters if I could? I don’t think so. They are what brought me to this place, and I, for one, wouldn’t change a thing.

It’s hot here. 90’s the last few weeks with about the same humidity levels. It rains almost every afternoon; a heavy, tropical rain that causes steam to rise from the blacktop and leaves the air even heavier with moisture. It makes your skin soft and your hair and nails grow. It fogs your glasses when you come inside. It makes you wonder how people live in this climate without air conditioning. It doesn’t last all that long; a month of high 80’s, a few weeks of 90’s. But it’s definitely stifling, causing you to move from home to car to store to car to home without spending too much time in between.

When I think about that, I remember where I came from, moved away from. Winters in northern Michigan last from about November through March and often into April. And I’m talking the cold, wet, windy winter that seeps into your joints and chills you to the bone. The never-ending bleakness of days upon days of little or no sunshine; late mornings and early evenings of darkness that make you long for summer when the sun doesn’t set until 10:00 pm. But to get to that summer you have to survive the muddy, rainy weeks of spring with the dirty snow piled up along the curbs trying to melt without sunshine, waiting for warmer days to finally rid itself. Summer begins, at least according to the calendar, June 21st and ends on September 21st. And sometimes, in northern Michigan, it actually does. Much of the time, though, summer begins and ends in bouts of 70- to 90-degree weeks, with cooler, rainy weather filling in the spaces making it virtually impossible to arrange for outdoor events without a backup plan. Fall, my most favorite Michigan season, rewards us with an amazing array of color and crispness that brings folks out for walks and drives, knowing that soon enough they’ll be forced back inside for the duration of another long, cold winter season.

Which brings me back to late summer in Florida. We don’t spend much time outdoors unless we’re at the beach; thankfully it’s only a few miles away. Mornings are best. People are out biking, walking their dogs or exercising, often before 8:00 a.m. But after 9:00 or so you’re forced back inside to the a/c. Evenings aren’t bad once the sun goes down, which is usually around 8:00 p.m. here. Most restaurants along the beach have outdoor seating where the ocean breezes keep you comfortable. Music generally fills the air and lines of pelicans fly overhead making their way to wherever it is they spend their nights.

During the day we ask ourselves how long we can stand the heat. Everyone mentions the humidity whenever they come in from outdoors. We are constantly in awe of the powerful and quick storms that move in and move out leaving steam rising from the parking lots. And then we’ll look at each other and remember: It could be worse. It HAS been worse. This is our ‘winter’ weather. This is what we have to endure to live and enjoy the remaining 10 beautiful months here. And anyone who has moved south from those long winters unequivocally agrees that it’s MUCH easier getting through this than it is getting through the seemingly endless months of the dry, windy, bone-chilling winter that forced us to look southward to sunshine, warmth, and the ocean.