Yesterday's campsite brought me to the Palmyra Golf and RV Resort. I got in about mid-afternoon - it was clean and quiet, just what the doctor ordered. (If I was a golfer, I'd have thought I'd landed in heaven - the campground sits smack-dab in the middle of the course, and they give discounts on golfing for campers.)
During the night, it was impressed upon me again that it's time to head south. I discovered that somewhere around 35 degrees, the heat pump quits pumping warm air - but keeps blowing that nice cool stuff around. I woke up freezing, and quickly turned the switch to the gas furnace. Fortunately, the switch is within reach of my bed - it was mighty cold in here by the time it woke me!
I listened to it twice this morning, trying to make it stick - I swear he was talking to me! The part I want most to stay with me for a while is (paraphrased): Live each day as if it will be your last, for one day, you will most certainly be right. Each morning, when you get up, ask yourself, 'If I knew today would be the last day of my life, would I be happy doing what I plan to do today?' If the answer is no too many days in a row, you need to rethink what you're doing in life.
I settled a bit by doing laundry, then wandered on down to the beach. The ocean did it's magic - I sat there for almost two hours, just watching the waves. I thought about life, death and the rhythm of the world. I watched the ducks dive, the gulls soar and the tide come in. I sat until the sun dipped below the trees, and I realized I was cold and getting hungry - and that my rattles were gone. Stop. Breathe. Yes.