Is this what it’s about?

I found myself slightly disturbed, by the state of my grandmother’s health and the lack of comfort in Miami’s warm embrace. The two of them represented so much for me in my younger years, but I am older now. Age seems to change so much.
I see her as a falling castle. Spires still stretch to the heavens, defying the elements and Nature’s insistent call. But she is damaged, as any good castle would be under such circumstances. Mortar weakened, stones chipped and worn, she will fall. Still, I marvel at her lucidity and fear for her during her argumentative rants. I have never seen her like that, attacking my mother. My stomach flopped uncomfortably, although it did not seem to faze Mom at all. But I have to wonder what this does to her too, watching her mother slip in memory and health. I know it rattled me good. David, forced to deal with some of the worst lashings I have ever had the miserable experience of giving, remained my savior in all this mess. He is my center. I am fucking lucky to have him at my side. He understood my sidelong glance when she spat disdain at Mom. We have been together for 4 years, enough time for him to see the crumbling begin. And Gramps, in his silent strength, tries so hard to keep it all together. He got choked up, telling me he was glad to be at Mickey’s house because he finally has help. I knew he was grateful. But I also know this whole thing has taken a toll on him. He hurts a lot. He’s tired. That’s not the man I knew. We all know she will fall. Sometimes I wish it were sooner than later. I don’t want my last memories of her to be in complete ruins. Sometimes death is a blessing, and not just for the dying. It can be a blessing for the living as well.

The lights raced by us, swerving unsteadily before plunging into darkness. More lights. More rushing. All I wanted was a quiet place to talk. TuTu Tango’s with David was perfect. We watched the Krishnas jingle by, and laughed at the insolence of rude people. While the pace was hectic in the Grove, I found in our conversation the stillness I love so much about our home. But then it ended. Duty called for travels to meet friends. Why are there no good quiet places in Miami? I love the Bull&Bush and thought that there would be something similar. Maybe a place like the dearly departed Bodhi’s. But what I remember of my goings-out was never quiet, save the nights spent on South Beach with German at the News Café, or other such places. It was always late and always a weekday. I find that it may have been the stillness I loved at those moments was generated from our being together, not the places we visited. Interesting. I shed Miami’s sticky light years ago and find that it makes me uncomfortable now. While I love big cities, I find that it’s too rushed for me. Nebraska Street is as fast as I want to get. Anything faster will come later, when I am not so worried about grades and school and my sanity. I think because I actually have a home in Orlando, I am hesitant to dip my toes back into the past. I know the streets, where the Avenues run, but the destinations disappeared when I moved to Ft. Lauderdale. My whims stole me from that chaos, and they resist a return, even if it’s just a visit.

There is something utterly wonderful about the creaks and smells in your own home. I love it there….