My Mother Moved to Florida and All I Got Was This Blogpost

(for Laramie)

So, here is my first letter from Paradise.

As I am preparing to  leave Manhattan, I give my new mailing address to the  Citibank teller:

"Moving  to Florida!"
I say happily.

"By choice?"  he says.

**********************************

Day 1    In my mailbox: Free prepaid cremations, courtesy of The Neptune Society.

Day 2    During my Sunday walk through the scruffy little urban park:  A signboard proclaiming "Free TAMPA RAYS vouchers  to all Blood Donors- today only."

Day 3    Passing a  racy low-slung silver Scion with West Virginia plates,  am startled to see a decal saying "As I Lay Dying" on the rear window.   A fellow  Faulkner fan?  Then I spy the "KISS" decal......just a metalcore fanatic.  Sigh.

Somehow all these  reminders of looming disaster, of death & dying, are weirdly invigorating.

Day 4   It's freakin' hot and humid. Again, I find myself taking the shortcut through the  little park.  Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.  I pick up my pace.

My spring-green canvas Adidas move quickly past the unshaven smokers slouching towards their tropical Bethlehems. 
The men poke hopefully into trash cans, postponing that status-lowering  trip to the Blood Bank.

"You take it easy now," an older black man says to me when I meet his eyes. "I will," I say.

Screw the Citibank teller and the horse he rode in on.

Ha ha Death, haven't caught me yet.  Down here it feels so good, it actually feels naughty, just being alive.