It's about 9 pm. It's windy, but warm and there's a short break in the multiple thunderstorms we've had all day. I have the front door open. The river's very rough, and I can hear waves breaking on the sea wall.
If I close my eyes, I'm transported back a few years ago to another warm spring evening. We're in our much-loved Key Largo (just like Bogie and Bacall), sittin under "our" tiki hut on the beach, swiggin a Corona, listening to the waves lap on the shore.