Returning To The Scene Of The Crime

The place was Honeymoon Island State park, Florida. The year was 1992. The actual date seems to escape me at the moment, but it matters not. The statutes of limitations have long been expired. It was, as they say, a crime of passion. It was where I offered my proposal of marriage to my fair maiden. We were wed a year later. A union that would last almost twenty six years, until succumbing to blatant infidelity. Another crime of passion. One that, in my mind, robbed our quarter century relationship of all validity and value.
    I had never returned to that particular park. not even once. As much as I enjoy the beach and state parks, that one just never came back up. Especially after the divorce. After that, there was no way in hell I could see my self ever going back there. Plenty of other spots to visit. But there is something about actively avoiding a thing that keeps it at the forefront of your thoughts. And there is the fact that Honeymoon Island is where you have to go to catch a ferry to Caladesi Island. A place I did want to see. It was obvious that enough time had passed that I needed to return to the scene of the crime. Which is what I did a couple of weeks ago.
    All and all, it was a worthwhile trip. Arriving at the entrance Honeymoon Island, I presented my annual park pass to a surly woman who was obviously in a bad mood, and seemed to question the validity of my pass. Once I got passed there, I made my way to the ferry launch, purchased my ticket, and was quickly on my way to Caladesi Island. You are only allotted four hours on the Island, and once there, I decided to take a hiking trail prior to exploring the beaches. The trails were somewhat flooded due to the recent passing of tropical storm Elsa, and the mosquitos were horrendous. Of course I had forgotten my bug spray. Even so, the trail was peaceful (in a biting and swatting sort of way), and offered some history at an old homestead ruins site. It turns out, that Honeymoon Island and Caladesi Island were at one time a single Island until a hurricane removed a swath in the middle in 1921. The original name of the place was "Hog Island". Interesting. After the hurricane, they became north and south Hog Island, respectively. They were renamed Honeymoon Island and Caladesi Island later when they became a destination and a park. Which makes sense. Who would want to visit a place called "Hog Island"?
    After enjoying the hike and donating a pint of blood or so to the local skeeter population, I made my way to the beaches on the Island. The beaches on Caladesi (South Hog Island) are awesome. Smooth white sand, easy surf and clear water. A real gem and a welcome relief after a steamy summer hike. After an hour or so, it was time to make my way back to the ferry to go back to Honeymoon Island. Storms were already building and rain was imminent. 
Once back on Honeymoon Island, I made my way to the beach there, and set up a chair to just chill and reflect. It was pretty much as I remember. In reality, it is sort of a shit beach. Lots of rocks of all sizes. Overall it pales to the beach I had just came from. By this time there were thunderstorms building on all sides, and rhythmic booms of thunder in the distance. Even so, I was glad that I was there. The memories started coming back. I recognized the area where I popped the question. We had a picnic and I had brought a bottle of wine. We filled the empty bottle with sand and shells as a memento. We kept that bottle all through our marriage. It wasn't until after the divorce was final that I threw it out.
    Then there is that rock jetty. There was a man fishing on that jetty when we were there. The sole witness to the crime. I remember shouting to him that we were going to get married. I guess that I expected some sort of animated response from him like what would happen in the movies. I recall he just looked annoyed that I interrupted his fishing time. Hell, perhaps he knew what the eventual outcome would be or something. Sort of funny thinking about it now.
   Dang! That was a close one!! the storms are close in now and lightning is flashing all around. The distant silhouette of downtown Tampa is totally engulfed in a storm. The winds have shifted and the temperature has dropped significantly due to another storm from the east. Just me and a few stragglers scouring the rocks for intact shells remain on the beach. No one left in the water. I should probably call it a day. As I pack up my chair and take one last look back, It is just a beach. And not a very good one. No bad juju. No emotional attachment. No resentment. No sadness. Just a beach.

Will I return again? I can't really say. Maybe. Caladesi would be cool to visit again.
Any regrets? Just one. I wish I hadn't thrown out that old wine bottle full of sand. I wish instead that I had brought it and poured the sand back. God knows, this beach can use all the sand it can get. That would have been fitting. I'll get over it easy enough though. But there is one thing I will do "out of respect for the history of the area". I will from this point forward refer to this place by it's original name.-
"Hog Island"
It deserves that much.
Case Closed.