Some thoughts on Belle Glade

Sunday

I spent most of Sunday afternoon casting a green, gummy worm into Lake Okeechobee. I’m not an expert fisherman (fisherwoman) or anything. I sat on a pier, the tips of my toes barely brushing the smooth water’s surface, the end of the fishing pole wedged into that little niche place just below the hip and at the highest point of the thigh.  

I think God created that niche with the idea that a fishing pole could rest there, or a child after they’ve fallen and scraped their knee. It could have been made for other things, but at this point in my life, it has only found purpose after Bennett, my niece, has hurt herself and I’ve lifted her to that niche and this past Sunday when I sat on Lake Okeechobee- casting what could be a child’s hope into the water- the only marker of time the click, click, click of the reeling and the ziiiiiip of the casting.

 

I was glad I wasn’t wearing sunglasses, not just because I didn’t have to worry about “raccoon eyes,” but because there was nothing between me and the sun. Sure, I had to squint when throwing out my line, but a little discomfort is worth letting sun entering the windows to the soul and filling the darkest places there. No one should wear sunglasses to keep the sunlight out. If I wasn’t so worried about blinding myself or causing serious damage, I’d look right into the sun, and burn my soul with its light.

Eh, that last part might have been a bit dramatic, but you get the idea. 

I didn’t catch any fish. Jesus could have been sitting with me on that pier, and I still wouldn’t have caught any fish. But I caught other things. I caught the sun in the tan of my skin, and in gold strands in my hair, and in the freckles on my shoulders, and I might have gotten a ray or two into my soul for later keeping. 

So, it was a good day. 

Monday

I might have caught more than a ray or two of sunlight in my soul on Sunday, because most of it was gone on Monday, but it was warm and the clouds weren’t dark like some overcast days can be.

We slept in (that’s important, because sleep is wonderful) and then we went to the Atlantic.

The waves were perfect, as the romantic would say. They were terrifying, as the tiny girl would say. They were much taller than my head. They were big, green, rolling waves…constant, like hungry mouths opening and closing, and I didn’t want them to swallow me whole. So I ran from them again, and again.

And then, being stupid and young, as well as persuaded by a certain Sarah and Jordan, I finally turned, ran towards one of those giants, and dove straight into the mouth of it, felt it close over my head, torso, legs, and feet, and then with one gulp, it swallowed me whole. And I wanted to be swallowed again and again, so I spent the afternoon in the belly of those green, rolling waves, and it was wonderful.

That night, we met Sarah’s mom and aunt at a Cuban place for dinner. I had frijoles negros con arroz, but I think Sarah said something like “black beans and rice together is just ‘congri,” so I had congri. I also had fried, sweet plantain, but I’m not going to attempt to say that in Spanish. I don’t know what it is, but I love Cuban food. I also love Spanish, and I’m sad that I didn’t keep trying to speak it.

Tuesday (Today)

We went to a Mexican grocery this afternoon. It was once a bowling alley, but if you didn’t know that going in, you wouldn’t know it looking at the aisles of food and the crates of produce. I bought plantain chips, coconut water, and some kind of Aloe Vera drink.

I love grocery stores, in case I’ve never mentioned it. And this grocery store was like being in another country. I practiced rolling my “r’s” when I read “frijoles negros,” and I repeated it to myself looking over the different brands, trying to imprint those Spanish words in my memory.

 

“frijoles negros, frijoles negros, frijoles rojas…” Red beans, another one to learn. 

I inspected the ground maize, and the packages of rice and brown azúcar, and the meat behind the glass in the back. And leaving, I tried to think in Spanish, but I thought in English, and I thanked the woman at the cash register in English too…but I said “frijoles negros con arroz” on the way to the car and “banana amarillo” and felt a small victory.  

We had lunch at a small café. Our forks clinked against the china, and the freshly whipped cream on our key lime pound cake was….you’d have to taste it to understand its tangy flavor, and texture, and the coolness of it with the warmth of the coffee (I won’t try, I’ll ruin it). Cake and coffee. Is there a better lunch? I doubt it. 

We lounged until we left to go to the shops and restaurants at City Place. We meandered there too. Barnes and Nobles is always a must, though small book stores are preferred, at least by yours truly.  We went to stores where I couldn’t afford the things they sold: white, pleated sofas, and downy comforters, and pretty tables. Though, I took the entire store with me in the form of a catalogue. It fit right into a small bag and went right out of the door with me. For free. I win.

We sat, resting against a fountain. We threw two pennies over our shoulders and made quiet wishes, because you should never be too old to wish. We laughed at a Dachshund being walked by a woman. It was obviously old and exhausted. But it was fat and happy, like the kind of dog that sleeps in front of the fireplace and drinks milk and fits in the family like a child. He smelled at the red flowers that everyone else walked by, and then waddled quickly after some birds, which made me and Sarah laugh. But I was happy that he was happy and chasing after birds. We watched kids chase the birds too, and I remembered that just Sunday, I was chasing after Grackles, the “pigeon of Florida,” Sarah says. But I like the Grackles like that Dachshund liked those flowers. Someone has to like them, someone has to notice them. I guess I’m one of those “someones.” 

We took a Trolley down Clematis Street, where we ate pizza at an unassuming place. We sat outside, and leaned on our elbows, and ate our pizza off our paper plates. And when we threw away the empty plates, we meandered back to the car and drove home.