Apr 24: One Hour

Just give me one hour. That's what I'm feeling. It's been another long day of writing, mostly locked indoors when all I really want is to escape into the sunshine. Maybe you feel this way sometimes. Maybe everyone who works at a desk feels chained there now and then. It's easy to feel this way, sometimes. And sometimes it's even easy to fix. So now it's around 5 p.m. and I'm going to set the work aside for a while, for one hour maybe. I'm lowering the top on my convertible and the strong afternoon sunlight behind me is instantly warm on my neck. And I'm pretty sure that I smile a little as I pull on to Dania Beach Boulevard, driving east into the long shadows, but still thinking about the busy day not far behind me now. I really need to stop thinking for a little while, for one hour maybe, I really do need to put all this down for a while.

I don't even know where I'm going. I'm just driving toward the ocean, toward A1A, then south along the sea until I'm past Sheridan and past Hollywood Boulevard and some side street beside the Broadwalk feels just about right. One dollar in the meter, enough for one hour, and now I'm walking. But I can't get my mind off the work that's waiting for me, not with so much yet to do today. I really just need to unwind, man - relax, relax.

I'm still not very good at relaxing on command, not even on my own command. I wish my brain came equipped with an off button. But now the sea is rolling in on the fresh, brisk winds and I'm walking north on the Broadwalk, through the swaths of shade behind the buildings and through the brilliant patches of sun in between. And after a while, not too long really, after maybe just 15 minutes of walking by the waves I decide it's time to sit. To just be quiet, to just stop and smell the salt in the air and watch and listen to the people as they pass me. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply and the scent is there for me, relaxing me a little maybe. Bicyclists scoot by now pedaling their racing bikes and mountain bikes and bicycles for two and even bicycles for four. And a lovely woman drifts south on her in-line skates and the coconut palm fronds are hissing softly as the winds rise off the water. The sunlight at my back feels hot and the salt breeze on my face feels cool and yes, I'm smiling now for sure because someone just smiled back. I think I may even have stopped thinking for a while there, I think. I look at my watch and realize I have to return to my car before the meter runs out. It's been an hour, just one hour away from the desk and the work and the writing. But here in South Florida, I find, sometimes one hour is just enough.