by Ashley Lowe
Landing at Tampa International Airport was pretty interesting. As we descend to land, we fly over a massive expanse of water. We can see the beach from our window; the sandy coast stretches out for miles and miles. The ocean drops away into the setting sun right at the horizon.
We don’t have much. We have no bags to claim. Everything we own is in our respective backpacks. That even includes Greg’s belonging. I don’t think he brought anything with him at all. Security had even confiscated his gun before we left the holding tank in Atlanta.
Even though the sun is setting, it’s still warm. The air is thick with humidity. Walking through the doors I could taste the saltiness of sweat already on my lips. I could feel my forehead dampen as we embraced our new surroundings.
Greg hails us a shuttle. “Who needs Tampa? Did you see that beach?” Ali asks me. She’s tried but she’s keeping up her energy. It was probably all of the coffee she drank on the flight from Atlanta to Tampa.
“I did see it. It was difficult trying to see past your big head, though!” I snicker at her expense. Greg smirks along with my comment. She yawns and stretches out across the backseat of the van with her head in my lap.
“Could you get us to the beach, please?” Ali asks the shuttle driver.
“Certainly, which beach?”
“What beach would you recommend for starting a new life?” Greg asks, eyeing us both.
“Clearwater is a wonderful community. It’s very open and accepting.”
“Clearwater Beach it is,” Ali says to the driver as she hands him three hundred dollar bills.
Driving towards the beach there is a wonderful view all around us. I counted at least three cars driving past us with little rainbow stickers. Out and proud. That must be a wonderful feeling. I’m looking forward to getting a chance at being my true self. I’m sure I can say the same thing on behalf of Greg and Ali, too.
Our wonderful chauffeur drops the three of us off at a place he called “Pier 60.” It was right down at the end of the main drive. “Stay here until sunset. You’ll have a blast,” he says as he shuts the door behind us. “Good luck, ladies and sir.”
Just as promised, as the sun started to fade from the day, the pier came to life with street performers, families, shop-like kiosks with beautifully handcrafted gifts and umbrellas in every color of the rainbow. The music filled the air with an energetic ambiance.
Ali and I walk hand-in-hand along the beach. Greg pulls out his phone and strolls just outside of our conversation. It sounds like he’s having one of his own.
The waves crash to the shoreline gently licking our toes. We sit in the sand and lookout as the sun dwindles away into a fiery orange half circle over the marine waterscape. Every now and then we catch a dose of Greg’s conversation with someone named Drew.
“I love you, Ali,” I say, holding her hand in my lap.
“I love you, Val,” she says back to me, slipping a ring on my left ring finger.
As we sit and hold each other, a radio off in the distance sings, “And I would just die if you ever took your love away.”
What a perfect homecoming. What could be any better than this?
I’ve come to learn a few things on this journey. Not only have I found myself, I have also found my voice. I have also truly found Ali. Life is only so long. Tell the people you love that you love them. It’s simple. Forgive the shitty people for the shitty things that they have done to you. It was probably just an act of stupidity or rage and nothing personal.
I will forever be grateful for the air that I breathe, Ali and Greg. I will smile at a stranger in hopes that it will make their day or maybe one day they will save my life, like Greg did. What I wouldn’t have done to have seen a stranger casually smile at me. That would have been a wonderful feeling.
I vow to myself to eat a damned candy bar or a piece of pizza if I really want to. I also vow to watch more movies on our new couch—when we find a home—with Ali while holding her as close as I possibly can.
Most of all, I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to be scared or anxious or worried. I’m going to release the hate that burdens my heart so that I can let Ali in completely and fully. It won’t hurt to have Greg around as a friend. I mean, I think I at least owe him that.
I’ve learned that only I can choose how I feel. Only I can choose my path. We can’t afford to make mistakes anymore. It’s time to make life last and make life good. We have learned the hard way that we only live once. Every moment is a fragile one that could make or break how and if we move forward. I choose to keep moving forward with Ali no matter what it takes.
The concept of home is a curious one. There’s no real single definition for what home is to anyone. A home could be a house. A home could be with a particular person. It could be an apartment or an RV. It’s all relative to the person or people involved in the making of that home. I choose to make Ali my home, no matter where we end up.
Home is not always where you are coming from. Your home does not have to be where you grew up and spent your earliest moments in life. Home can be where you’re headed. Home can be a particular goal. The future is completely open with opportunities and possibilities. Everything from here is unwritten.
I am me and nobody can change that.
Here’s what matters most to me: we’re together. Against all odds, Ali and I have finally made it home.
END
