I’m seated beside a nightlight, listening to the softest little yawn. Evelyn shifts in her crisp white sheets on the top bunk, another yawn escaping.
This morning, Maddie came sprinting across the sand gap between our rentals, arm outstretched with a pink, blue, and purple turtle bracelet. Pointing straight at Evelyn, she declared: “I got this for you!”
Their fast vacation friendship is winding down—but not before Maddie’s parents gave the green light for one last supervised night of hot tub dips and pool jumps.
I’ll miss this place. Just as I found the rhythm of vacation—hours of reading, shared meals, and inside jokes about the mysterious couple next door (a secret rendezvous, maybe?)—it’s time to go. Tomorrow the cleaners arrive, and the tree-cutting guy wants his check.
So reluctantly, I’ll climb into the passenger seat and make the slow trek north. The air will be cooler there, less heavy with moisture, where a dehumidifier won’t fill a gallon bucket in a single day.
At one of the two convenience stores, Dave and I picked up a gallon jug of Blue Bell Dutch chocolate ice cream. When the checker said, “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” I took it as permission to keep talking. I’d been itching to ask about the sea turtles. Hearing they won’t hatch for another month quelled my middle-of-the-night urge to sneak down to the beach and check. He also told us about a 17-degree night a few years back, when the local turtle guy—yes, there’s just one—gathered a bunch of full-sized ones up and kept them warm. The details were fuzzy, but the man’s admiration for that deed was clear.
Now I’ve moved to the fourth-floor balcony. The sky is darker than black, and in front of me there’s nothing but the static hush of waves. Far in the distance, lightning flickers once a minute, without thunder behind it. I’ve grown used to these silent discharges—like whispered secrets in the clouds. Beautiful, if a little unnerving.
My body is beyond ready for bed. Not that I did much—just read, played wooden paddle ball with Dave, and watched the guys next door nearly land a shark. Close calls, but nothing caught.
Until next year, thank you, Cape San Blas, for a lovely time.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 