Where The Heart Is

It's the simple things, right? On Sunday, I like to get up early, go out and get the paper, make myself a nice breakfast (my patented Bob McMuffin!), and then just drink my coffee and relax and “waste” the morning doing the various crossword puzzles. If the day is nice, like today, I'll slide open the door to the backyard and let the good air in. Nobody bothers me, the phone doesn't ring and I can just enjoy the quiet time by myself.

Life is good.

I don't know why this little ritual is so important, but it is. I mean, I'm not the CEO of some major corporation; my life during the week isn't that busy...I could do this any day I chose. But Sundays are special. Or should be.

I could never really do this in Washington. Sundays were like any other days. The boss didn't know what the word “weekend” meant, other than our parts suppliers weren't open. I'd get up at the usual time, go to the hangar at the airport, turn the lights on, make the coffee...just like any other day of the week. The boss would arrive and we'd plan out our work day. Predictable routines.

It's supposed to snow in Brewster, Washington today, Sunday, November 5^th with a high temperature of only 39 degrees and a low of 16. Looks like I left Washington in the nick of time. I don't like the cold. Here in Pensacola it is an extraordinarily pleasant day.  We're forecast to hit a high of 80, and the low tonight will be 64. Won't have to run the A/C much; won't have to run the heat at all.

My boss in Washington would like me to move up there permanently, and keeps suggesting it. He certainly could use the help, and we get along pretty well. I could work my way into a really good position there, not just money-wise but I'd also have the ability to be around and fly all kinds of aircraft, and do all kinds of wacky things. While I admit that I do like it up there, I love it here in Florida. And that's the difference: I just don't love Washington enough to move up there full-time. Sorry, boss.

My friend Terry who is from northern Alabama originally, is always going on and on about what a beautiful place Pensacola is. He gushes, ”We live where other people come on vacation!” Which is true enough. But it's also true of many places. Imagine living on, say, Catalina Island, in California? How smug those bastards must be! Or the people who live in New York City, how 'bout them! You get the idea. I will admit though, Pensacola is a pretty special, unspoiled place.

They say that home is where the heart is. Mine is here in northwest Florida. We're not tropical or culturally diverse and exciting like Miami and south Florida. No matter. Pensacola suits me just fine.  And I am so damn glad to be home, where I can enjoy my little Sunday morning ritual once again.  

I may never leave.