My Bro is a Floridian

For my adult life, since the age of 24, I have lived 1200-1500 miles away from my nearest relative.
I am fortunate that both my kids are in Tampa, so I have the next generation close at hand.  Still, living alone and with no close relatives to depend on tests your resilience.

So, I'm ecstatic that my brother and his wife retired to Palm Harbor, about 15 miles from me.  Thus far, we have shared meals and football, but I'm looking forward to concerts and holidays.  They got here via the movers from hell, and so far have experienced 2 brushes with hurricanes.  The former problem should keep them here, never to move again... the latter makes Florida transplants think twice.  But I'm hoping they'll be here a long, long time.

Here's Gary and Denise with my little granddaughter:

Somehow, Florida seems more like home now.

Gone but not forgotten

Andrea moved away from Florida once before, at the age of 19, to elope. It didn't last long, but for the first few years she came back, she was still a wild child. Tonight she's living in Louisville and I will be lonely without her. In the last three years she's directed her life, found a career, learned to be independent, and then finally reunited with someone that will be good to her and good for her.

It was a melodramatic leaving...everything that could go wrong about the move did, but when they called yesterday from the Panhandle, they had overcome all the stress and were starting on the adventure. Christian called to report they had completed their first domestic partner grocery shopping trip.

This, like my own move from home at the age of 25, is a necessary rite of passage, to become the adults they're meant to be. But it feels like a loss to me. Bearable, yes. Hard to get over? You bet.




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