Boynton Beach

How quickly I remember, how quickly I forget. In the blazing Florida sun, the sticky heat, blisters stinging, I glare and I mutter viciously. And then a small thing will happen, a certain song will come on my mp3 player, say, or a pretty girl will smile cautiously at a stoplight, and suddenly I will understand, again, briefly, why it is that I'm here, in the sun, and a smile will creep back across my face, spread quickly until I can't contain it and it explodes in delicious laughter all over the sidewalk.
Though I haven't been making very good miles, to this point, as I'm still whipping myself into shape, there have been no major setbacks nor unexpected delays, and the signposts go by.
Two nights ago, after filling up my water bottle at a McDonald's and heading out the door, I was accosted by a man sitting nearby. After a bit of conversation about my trip he offered that I could stay at his house for the night, and so I threw my pack in the back of his Jeep. At Doug's house I showered and shaved and then he and I sat on the deck and talked into the night, fish splashing about in the still canal that runs alongside, a small breeze toying with the palm trees, not a quarter of a mile from the ocean. As Doug, a Yakima, Washington native, talked about politics and economics and told stories about his life I basked in the moment, sitting quietly and wondering where else in the world there existed such peace and ease, such tranquility. And then, because there is always balance, Doug talked about all of the hurricanes that have passed over the very spot, all of the times he's had to quickly differentiate between what is needed and what is expendable, stashing his car with the former, and flee the violent wind, the angry rain, the pulsing sea.
Doug reminded me, by letting me into his home and sharing his words, that nothing exists without change. Comfort, tranquility, joy: they are mindsets, constantly in flux. A song or a smile can remind us of them, and pain and toil can make us forget. My problem is that I forget more than I remember - every day that I spend surrounded by comfort, by friends and family and shelter and good food I lose track of their worth. My goal, then, is to change that.