My fantasy

Ever since becoming sick, I've had one fantasy. Hanging out at the beach. The location changes but the fantasy is the same. I am in a good hotel room, not the usual dive I stay in when I've gone to the beach. It is cool weather and my window is open while I plow through a bag of books, mostly trashy mystery novels with a Jane Austen thrown in just for funsies.

Later, just as the sun goes down I stroll down the beach before enjoying a dinner at a 4-star beachfront restaurant or some dive that has grouper sandwiches. Then I go back to my room and read some more. In the morning it all starts over again. I realize I could sit in my condo and do almost the same thing, but something about the smell and sand of the ocean brings back happy times and the ultimate in relaxation.

I was born and raised in Florida, and special times with family and friends frequently included the beach. Maybe that is what ignited my longing for a time before mortgages and career disappointments and cancer. Or maybe it's just that deep down all I've ever really wanted to be was a beach bum. And I would do it in a heartbeat too, if being a beach bum had a medical plan. I guess once you've had cancer reality is hard to escape. Bummer dude.