“You can make anything by writing.” ― C.S. Lewis

Posts for Florida Category

A Letter to My Husband on Our Third Anniversary

Dearest Shaun,

I have promised us that this year, for your anniversary letter, I will keep it short – what with both of us working, and Ariadne, all the demands on our time, and the fact that I’ve written a whole separate post for our anniversary on how we met.

And I think we both know me trying to avoid being long-winded is just not really likely to happen.

I’ll try. I’ll try to keep this short.

On the day we were married, we spent the entire day preparing for the ceremony and party, and then celebrating – a day of cool weather and fall leaves and wine and laughter and kisses and hugs and dance trains and bliss. On our first anniversary, we got to sleep in, and then drive across the river to the Encampment, to gorge ourselves on Ye Olde Timey Food and giggle at the terrible announcer for the battle reenactment. Last year, on our second anniversary, we were with Lance and Tara at Seahorse Ranch, and we walked down to the river, and all over the property, and then hiked at Munson Lake, and cooked dinner together – a beautiful day of family and peace and nature.

This year, on our third anniversary, things are a bit different. I was up at four thirty in the morning, and I got you up briefly at five. I was up again at six fifteen, and I got you up again at seven thirty. I was at work all day, and you were home in charge of child care. We spent most of the day apart. We contemplated going to a nice dinner tonight – but now it seems we’ll wait until the weekend. So much has changed, and we’d both rather be home in pajamas, snuggling our girl, than out and about after spending most of the day with our family in two different places.

Continue Reading

Continue Reading

Going Home

Florida, Life, Memoir, My Little Family, Our Marriage, Shaun, Travel - Emily - December 4, 2015

Nearly ten years had passed since I’d last been down this way.

Shaun and I had spent hours on I-65, but at the tail end of Alabama, we took an exit and wound around to newly finished country highways, the asphalt black and smooth with fresh paint.

He’d never been to this part of country before, and our GPS didn’t recognize it either. The highways had changed since the maps had been updated, the little screen blinked and skewed wide, showed us driving over nothing land, no roads and no direction.

I felt a flicker of worry – it had been nearly ten years since I’d made the drive to this part of Florida, and I’d never been the driver, the navigator, the one responsible for finding our way there. I’d always been a child, before, or a teenager. A passenger.

But my phone picked up right where the actual GPS freaked out, and we sped along, through little Alabama towns only miles apart. What little city there was faded away the longer we drove, here and there veering off a junction onto a different little highway.

Did we pass the Florida border yet? Shaun asked, and I shook my head.

I don’t think so, yet. But I dunno, I dunno if they’d have border signs way out here.

We’d taken a picture at every state line we’d passed, on our first long road trip together; at the rest stop in Tennessee we were so familiar with, at the Huntsville rest stop with the old space shuttle in Alabama. I didn’t plan on making us stop for a Florida picture – there’d be no rest stop, this far off the beaten path, and I knew we’d be taking plenty of Florida-themed pictures during our week there.


The land had changed, all throughout our drive. The gentle hills and autumn-hued trees of Kentucky gave way to sharply rising gorges in Tennessee, the trees slightly greener, only tipped with red. Alabama seemed like such a strange place, long flat stretches of mostly empty land, the billboard on one mile proclaiming GO TO CHURCH OR THE DEVIL WILL GET YOU, and the next mile advertising strip clubs, adult bookstores. Over and over again.

Continue Reading

Continue Reading