I spent well over two weeks not thinking about the oil spill in the Gulf. I had left with all the hurricane preparedness I could muster from afar and decided to leave fate to the wind. Arriving home, I’ve noticed a dearth of headlines on the oil spill – almost subdued news. So I dug to find out what is up. I checked my friend’s blog in Florida who is documenting goings on for posterity in fear the ocean and its inhabitants might suddenly disappear. I learned that she is retiring from her daily posts and will only post if and when something happens. I am due a debriefing from my neighbor who is a biologist and who is actively working on the containment of the oyster beds but don’t have his info yet – albeit if something was critical I would have come home to some news from him unsolicited. A recent Reuters posting made it seem like the oil spill was over and the devastation was not as disastrous as we had believed.
All in all, we are smack dab in the midst of hurricane season here in the Gulf. BP will remain the AntiChrist for many years to come. But today when I saw all the ibis hanging out in the moribund tree on the City Park lagoon island, I thought, hmmm, this too has passed.
The one good sign about aging that I can tell you is this – you learn that things have a rhythm to them. When we were driving to Cadiz, I was sitting in back of our friend, Anna’s car, and had Tin in the Ergobaby because we didn’t have a carseat – I was entertaining him because he was tired of being strapped in and so we were playing UP and DOWN. After about seventy five ups and downs, I said, “Up and down. Asi es la vida, my boy.” And how true that is.