My dear mother is still a newbie to Texas life.
After 5 months in central Texas, it was time to expand her horizons
so we took off on an adventure to the southern Gulf coast--
specifically the sleepy, beach town of Port Aransas.
Once we pull onto the ferry for the brief ride across to Mustang Island,
my heart rate slows and I sigh with relaxation.
(This physiological response is due to:
1. The calming effect of the waves, gulls, salt air and
2. Knowing the 4 hour drive is finally over!)
My mother is very familiar with coastal living, having lived 40 years on
Long Island, NY, with the Atlantic Ocean beaches...
then 20 years in western Florida with those pretty Gulf beaches.
But Port A offers yet some new distinctions--
we spent hours sitting on the jetty watching the ships sail back and
forth, guessing at countries of origin.
This big one was from Panama.
We mused on the purpose of the cargo and equipment on board each one.
Our binoculars came in handy to spy on the oil rigs just off shore.
Lathered in sunscreen, we shared quiet hours of reflection,
reading scriptures and discussing Easter's deepest meanings.
Most of the fisherman nearby paid us little mind,
except for this one curious fellow who wanted to take part in our
discussions. He listened intently for a long time, but said little.
More than the gulf beaches, Port A is famous for its large variety of shorebirds.
We wandered out on some of the overlooks in the marshes,
peacefully viewing them as they paddled around.
Yes, I was there, too.
I really love this place--
so silent, natural, uninhabited by people.
I'm glad to say Mum survived the alligator unscathed!
All too soon we gave in to responsibilities and packed up
to drive back "off island" --
now rested, tanned and ready to face the rigors of life.
That's what vacations are all about, aren't they?