The mist rolls in over the marshes and hovers as I drive over the bridge and onto Amelia Island. I see the sparkle of shimmering water blending with the colors of green and gray as it flows out from under me and out to the sea.
The fog hangs its damp mantle in the air as I reach the top and see the dimly masked blinking lights of the island far to my left. The paper mill churns out smoke and it rises incessantly from its barely visible chimney.
The Marina with its variety of crafts is now in my foreground but veiled from sight. Only the sign is visible and a few masts poking up like upside-down lollipops in a bowl of cotton candy.
As I look to the right, I see the faint outline of the airport runway etched in the ground.
Finally, I can view on the far horizon what looks like a fortress but is really a hotel; the Ritz, pale and ephemeral, with ramparts that paint a fantastic and beautiful mirage. For a brief moment, I am dreaming about my life. What would it have been like if things had been different for me? But then, the mist closes and the view vanishes and now I swing my eyes back to the road and go down the other side of the bridge. I'm on "the Island" now as we call it here, and I can see the blurry signal of a traffic light ahead.
My thoughts swing back around, too and my heart aches as I drive through a swirling maze. Will we be leaving or staying? Bob wants to leave and go to bigger and, perhaps, better places. I yearn to stay.
The fog still it hovers around me. Deep inside, I know he's made up his mind and that's it. We will go. He says we've been marooned here for too long and he's probably right. However, the years ahead are mysteries with no guarantees. They will only unveil their ghostly secrets slowly like the dissipating fog, revealing a hint of sunlight and a splash of hope. And, inspite of all the pain and struggle I've experienced here, I will miss this place. It was home for a long time.
Fernandina, I'll never forget you!
The seagulls cry and I do, too.
