Livin' in the Low Country

You know when you have one of those encounters with a stranger that makes you wonder, "What just happened?"  Somehow you know that there is some message being transmitted that doesn't meet the eye. I love those experiences, because I know I am about to receive something I needed even though I may not know I needed it. I experienced that tonight on my evening walk. 

I get restless from time to time. Sometimes it passes quickly. Sometimes it lingers, and sometimes it doesn't leave until I make a 180 degree turn in my life, quit my job, leave my lover and move to another country. Restlessness has been coming and going a lot lately. I am not unhappy. I do not want to quit my job, leave my lover or move to another country but I would, however, like to quiet the tinkling bells of my gypsy soul. 

Yesterday, on my way to work  I saw an "apartment for rent" sign across from the main entrance to the woods where I  like to hike. By lunch time I had decided I needed to move there and drove back by to get the phone number from the sign. By the evening I was on the internet searching for a new apartment. Before I saw the sign I had no thought of moving. After realizing I was really much better off staying where I am mostly because I like where live, I dropped the idea. However, the wheels were still turning. By the end of work today, in my mind, I rearranged all the furniture in my apartment. I think I will have a project this weekend. Perhaps it will suffice my restless spirit. Yes, I am needing something, but what?

Turtles are my totem. For those of you who do not have a totem, you may not understand this. If you have a totem, you will not question this. Trust me. They appear everywhere for you, and they make themselves known. This has been going on so long for me that when I see a turtle, I wait for it's message. This may sound weird to you, but it's true. It's just one of those things that "Is" for me.

I live in what they call the "Low Country." That's a nice word for swamp. In my neighborhood is a Carolina Bay. It looks like a big pond, but they don't call them that here. Apparently, there were depressions made in the earth eons ago that filled with water... perhaps created from a meteorite crashing or something. They are called Bays because of the Bay trees that are often around them, not because they are like a bay. They are like a swampy pond. Anyway, there is one nearby, and I like it, and it's the only body of water around. Sometimes this mermaid feels so landlocked here that I feel as if I am gasping for water. I walk my dog there almost daily. There are ducks and blue herons and turtles... lots of them.   

Tonight, on my walk around the "Bay," I heard the spokes of someone's bicycle clicking behind me. I turned to look and saw a man walking his bicycle carrying, what I thought was, his helmet in his hand. It was just a quick glance. I smiled and said, "Hello."  He smiled back and acknowledged my greeting. A few seconds later, a voice behind me says, "Excuse me. Do they belong in the water?"  I turned back again, this time looking more directly at the man and noticing what he actually was holding in his hand. 

There aren't many hippie type folks in the "Low Country." I think they all live in the mountains. This man, however, was the exception. The only thing missing was a Grateful Dead t-shirt. He looked to be in his 40's, long hair pulled back in a ponytail, wire-rimmed glasses framing his sparkly eyes, an Earth Day hemp bag strapped across his back, Teva sandals.... and holding a turtle in his hand! His energy was unassuming and his voice soft. He asked me like he knew I would know. He said he found it the road and thought it's home might be here. I tried to curtail my enthusiasm so I didn't seem like a freak, but I was so excited to be part of a turtle rescue. 

I showed him where I always see a lot of these turtles sunning themselves. When hell froze over the first winter I lived here, a wicked ice storm killed a bunch of trees and they fell into the bay creating a little turtle haven. Before he released the turtle, he asked, "So, this is where she lives, and she likes it here?  I found it interesting that he knew the turtle was a she, not a he. And I said, "Yes, there is where she lives, and she likes it here." 

Sometimes you just need someone to be that mirror for you, so you can see yourself better. Yes, right here in this low country, landlocked, swamp where the air smells like jasmine and magnolia blossoms, where the purple wisteria cascade down to the ground, where the ancient live oak trees tangle themselves to create archways across the road, where people ride their horses right down main street, where I love my lover, my friends and my job... This is where I live, where God has provided a haven for me, and I like it here.  That's what I needed... to remember that.