Bahia Honda, Florida Keys – March 12, 2013
The end felt inevitable.
Five hundred miles, two hundred, fifty, ten, four. It felt easy at the end, easy and loud with people and chatter, phone calls and texts, handshakes and hugs. The volume rose like Key West on the horizon, warm and bright, louder and louder as if an invisible hand spun an invisible dial on an invisible machine.
It’s quiet again now.
I slipped back into the water and disappeared. No one knows. No one cares. There’s no crowds, no flashing cameras. There’s no phone calls or reporters. There’s no one, only a whisper of wind and a battered yellow boat, a pink flamingo and a stuffed alligator, an old idea traded for a new, an end traded for a beginning, the inevitable traded for the impossible.