My parents have been snowbirds for the last half decade or more. They escape their cold Minnesota winters and “fly south” like so many other old birds.
The place they nest is nice, but generic and geriatric. We dubbed it “Del Boca Vista, Phase 3” as a nod to the show Seinfeld. It’s got all the HOA infighting and shenanigans; people know everyone’s business; and rascal scooters are considered ATV’s, used for everything from a trip to the grocery store to taking out the trash.
Our first trip down to Boca 3, the talk around the community was all about how they were going to fire their grounds crew. Alex and I looked around and saw green grass and colorful flowering bushes with maybe an errant weed or two, but I guess when you’ve got nothing else to do but watch the grass grow you notice every out of place blade.
This trip, we’re the ones watching the grass grow, since the parents left early for doctor’s appointments up north. We couldn’t let a Florida condo sit empty, especially one that’s paid for.
Day 1 we had breakfast on the lanai and tried to map out our time here. We realized we were further from the beach than we had remembered. North Fort Myers is not Naples. There seem to be more Dollar Stores than Starbucks. Not that there’s anything wrong with that: We picked up some great stuff for our stay, and all for $1 each!
Day 2, breakfast on the lanai. Ducks waddling by. Herons floating overhead to perch on the edge of the community pond. Life slows down. Books are read. This isn’t so bad.
Day 3, breakfast on the lanai. Humidity of Florida summer starting to creep through the screened porch. A commercial on TV advertises the Hurrycane: a three-pronged hybrid cane/walker thing. I find myself comparing this to the regular old cane. Am I becoming one of them? No, I’m too young for this, I tell myself as I enjoy a strong coffee out of a cup that my dad must have gotten when he joined AARP, and a book perhaps presciently titled Cabin Fever.