Titusville

I think I'm getting used to the heat somewhat, and I've been making good time the last few days. It helps that I've walking fairly close to the inner coast, now, as well, so that when I want to I can jot over to cool my feet for a while in the middle of the day, and the breeze that comes in off of the water keeps me reasonably cool as well. I've only slept on the beach once so far, and actually felt chilled at night for the first time since leaving home.
My feet are doing pretty well, finally starting to heal up nicely from their blisterings. I cut one of my toes on a piece of glass two days ago and had to wrap it up, but it's feeling good now.
Was sleeping in the grass, in some shade under a big tree under a cloudless afternoon, maybe four days ago, and woke up to find a sprite and some walnut fudge in the shade of the tree next door, a little ways away from my feet. I looked around, of course, for the party who'd left them, but found the roadway empty as far as I could see. So I reveled some in the aura of my unexpected treat, scanning each passing car thereafter for some sort of sign. I pictured, though I realized it probably wouldn't be the case, that whoever it was might come past again for another look, to see their gift being enjoyed, and what a wonderful feeling it was to gaze in the window of every passing car and wonder if that face was of the secret santa. Each stranger had the potential, then, to be an unknown friend and small protector. More than just a sweet snack I was given the anonymous gift of feeling watched over by an unseen eye, and indeed I felt the physical lethargy of being cared for, as if my head was being given a tingling, electric massage by a godly hand. Do you ever feel that, when someone cares for you? So impossibly content that your brain feels numb from it, that you keep your limbs deadly still for fear of breaking the invisible, humming, stroking, bond? The first time I remember feeling the wave of it I was in first grade, sitting on the couch by the bookshelf next to Niki Witzel and she was reading aloud. I've felt it on and off over the years, and have never been able to characterize it, in the same way that I'm failing now to do so. If you've felt it, I suppose, then maybe you know what I'm saying, and if you haven't, then there isn't much I can do to describe it better. The science is probably that my brain is releasing some chemicals in a certain way or another, and though I've never been spiritual enough to give another view my trust, I still like to picture, when I feel such, that I'm feeling the caress of something more mysterious than chemicals. I watched the faces in the passing cars, then, for something more like the face of an angel, watching back. Does that seem silly, to use the 'a' word after a small incident involving Sprite and fudge?
I don't know what I feel, I guess. But certainly the road reminds me to be careful in my cynicism, to be accessible to change and open to wonder.
Anyway, sometimes a gift is more than a gift.