I rolled into Galveston after dark. It was the final section of the I-45 Time Tunnel I'd been traveling for almost an hour, seeing each of the sites clearly despite nightfall. Perhaps better, because the darkness blocked reality, allowing me to see each place as I remembered it...
...there was Almeda Mall and its movie theater, where Ann and I watched "Saturday Night Fever"... the Diamondback Saloon where I met Tom... the exit for my condominium in Webster, a first mortgage at age 20... League City, where Tom and I started out, pre-kids... my brother Buster's grave... the isolated spot where I had a blow-out returning from Galveston one evening and two angels (I'm convinced they were angels) stopped to help...
I saw myself driving back and forth, to and from the island... with my parents, with Brenda, with Ann, with Nate, with Chris... solitary drives by myself, drawn more to the water and the seawall than to Calculus and Fortran, hoping the sea breeze could clear my jumbled brain... a few years later zipping down with Tom, with the kids...
Lord, how long had it been since I'd visited the island? I crossed the causeway, "seeing" the water and marshes stretching away from me in the inky darkness. The pyramid of Moody Gardens glowed in the distance; I realized the last time had been a visit there with the kids, probably thirteen years ago or so.
In high school I usually swung right, heading down 61st street to Seawall Boulevard, ending up at West Beach. But on this night I continued down Broadway, following Ann's directions to her little apartment, carved from an old Victorian cottage. To the best of my memory, I'd never driven Broadway at night, but even so, I got the impression of more space than there used to be; trees, perhaps some buildings, were gone, stolen by Ike in 2008. It was comforting to see the hulking silhouettes of some of my favorites... the Moody Mansion, Ashton Villa and other historic mansions that were privately owned. Bishop's Palace was farther down, but I knew it had survived as well.
I finally pulled up to Ann's apartment. It had been years since we'd had a weekend together like this and even more since we'd spent time in Galveston together. How had we let that happen? I was so grateful her gypsy soul had led her to rent this little place for a few months and, despite being on the go for weeks in a row, I wasn't about to let those months go by without taking advantage of it and visiting for a weekend.
Of course, the time went by too fast. We stayed up all Friday night talking, slept late Saturday, walked to a neighborhood restaurant for breakfast, then hit the beach like we did when we were teenagers (actually, back then we probably skipped breakfast, hit the beach early and stayed all day!)
Later, she took me on a tour of her favorite thrift shop, we strolled the Strand and enjoyed music and dinner within view of the seawall, the moonlit waves and the touch of the wind blowing in from the Gulf.
The next day we again walked to breakfast and found treasure in more wonderful shops. Before, after, and in between, we talked and talked and talked, not pulled to be anywhere at any certain time. It was hard to think about returning to real life with its alarm clocks, routines, responsibilities and deadlines, but it helped having that respite from the mad rush, rush, rush. It created a calm place inside me... a peace that energized me today and buffered the usual stress.
Obviously, I need more weekends at the coast, don't you think?
As a weekend bonus, I got to see my parents. Their house was just a slight jog out of the way when I headed home; it would have been silly not to take advantage of being that close. I swung by long enough for a cup of coffee, a little conversation, and a few hugs and kisses. I just wish I'd thought to take a picture of them while I was there!
I did take dozens in Galveston, though. Here are just a few...
Rebuilding in Ann's neighborhood...
Stewart Beach... no oil or tar, but plenty of seaweed!
Me and Ann, together again near the waves...
Dappled gray on the Strand (notice "Ike water line" on the wall beyond him?)
A bit of Ann's artwork (and a framed photo of the two of us)
Band above the bar Saturday night...
Nature's gift of flowers on the graves in the old cemetery...
