I put the XL iced tea from Love's Truckstop in my forward-most cupholder, moving the morning's M and mostly-empty coffee cup from GasPro to the neighboring "passenger" cup holder, checkmating my spent energy can of Passion Fruit flavored vitamin enrichment to the makeshift trash bag hanging from the shifter.
Riley attended her morning classes from the backseat via hotspot
Her breakfast of hot boiled peanuts lasted well into lunch, along with Reese Cups and bottled water.
According to our global positioning system, we had a little more than an hour before we reached our field trip destination: Georgia's Sea Turtle Center on Jekyll Island.
The last time we were at the Sea Turtle Center was when BeanBean & DuhDuh visited in 2016. [album]
The museum was smaller than we remembered, but the more we move forward in life, the more it seems to be that way with things we’ve left behind.
After a full 20 minute tour, we left through the same doors we'd entered, doing our part to save turtles via purchase of gift shop tchotchkes on our way out (stickers and a leather bracelet-"like Rory wears".)
There was a scavenger hunt planned for students when everyone finished their self-guided tours, but facing the 3+ hour return and a sky full of dark clouds, we decided to get on to highstepping.
Before we could leave, we had to attend to some monkey business on the neighboring island.
Rye -having started her All-Things-Autumn-and-Pumpkin-Flavored Season the minute the clock struck September, was keenly interested in the bread that Barbara Jean bestows upon her guests. There was no option to just buy the bread, so we allowed ourselves to be seated. Having done so, we then felt compelled to place a courtesy order.
We agreed to go tapas in order to save room for Larry's but the plan was destined to fail - we had a very generous waitress who sent Riley home with extra pumpkin bread.
We split Jay's half-order of Gritters (deep fried ham and white cheddar cheese grit fritters) and ordered a vegetable side apiece (Rye got more white cheddar grits while I enjoyed the squash casserole)
After a hearty walk around the village, we were still full. But since we don't have a very convenient Larry's (Athens) we decided we would still stop and place an order to go, for tomorrow... or at least a little further down the road.
As we pulled into the sub station, Riley suddenly remembered her fondness for Smallcakes, right next door, and forgot about being full long enough to sprint for the door. With a luxurious 7 minutes to spare before closing, we cleared the counter with just enough time to have four cupcakes boxed for the road: Butterbeer, Birthday Cake, Strawberry & Hot Fudge Sundae. (No, you can't see them- they're already in various stages of demolition)
We grabbed the usual from the giant gorilla. Riley used to be scared of him when she was little - now, slightly less so.
As we got back in the car, she explained: "Disney was to my detriment" (her own words) "I used to think that monkey, and all the things like it, were just going to suddenly come to life and hurt me."
Having walked the beach and befriended the sea birds, it was time to get back home.
On the highway home, I passed a Maserati - and he let me, instantly alerting me that Georgia State Patrol had not yet tired of shooting fish in the barrel. I cleared the lane change and saw we were both losing to a truck carrying marble slabs, slowed down to appreciate several road side light shows.
I settled in, then, for LibriVox and a leisurely pace homeward - fully aware that my early morning ticket (sorry Momma!) would grant no immunity from a late night encore.
One nice thing about being (somewhat) familiar with an area is knowing there's a better gas station up ahead within 'wait it out' range. I bypassed some iffy places for the clean, well-lit Parker's in Statesboro and added a full measure of petrol to the fumes in my tank.
Back in the car, I combined my iced tea from Larry's into the Love's cup from earlier, peg-jumping it like a golf tee at Cracker-Barrel into the secondary, overflow cup holder, where the ancient GasPro cup had been kinged to abandoned his throne. I placed the latest cup in the premier spot, where reaching for it with my eyes on the road would be easier.
As my hand brushed the morning's cup, now jammed between the shifter and dash, I realized I was back to coffee, full circle.
Full circle.
I take my tea unsweet (except when they 'mis-hear' me) and my coffee darker than a starless night.
But sometimes, only certain times, I will add cream.
Even more rarely, I'll make it sweet.
For reasons.
Last night's hazelnut reason was driving full circle.
But also, my own quiet nod to life and her concentric circles.
You see, many years ago, I lived on Jekyll Island.
I started drinking coffee in the first place as the Golden Isles rode out Hurricanes Ivan and Jean.
For a wary moment, we watched Katrina, before she made her turn for the worst.
Coffee was the only thing available in the little seaside villa's lobby, where we watched weather developments into the wee hours and waited, intermittently, for power to come back on.
I wasn't a coffee drinker back then, so the 2/3 cup of cream (or approximately 9 little creamers) helped smooth the bitter,
I was carried home on that last L cup of brood - a little smoother than I generally take it, a little sweeter, too.
The day held so many interesting things: a homeless man and a Peregrine falcon sharing the same intersection, lizards playing tag, historic places, sea turtles(of course) and a shy Fiddler crab; a family of island deer, beer bottle seaglass, a man playing harmonica, friendly passers-by.
The clouds were soft and gray and the breeze an oscillating fan; at once strong then gentle again.
There were other "weather patterns" throughout my day that would take too long to unpack here - each declaring both "You've been here before" and, simultaneously, "You don't live there anymore"
With my eyes fixed on the road ahead of me, I reflected on myriad things; the jagged edges of shattered glass, worn smooth by tumbling seas.
I reached my driveway as the last crumbs of Edna Ferber's buttery stories played. I locked up, set the alarm and climbed swiftly into bed.
I slept soundly,
profoundly grateful~
Home is where I am.
