I came to Florida to find myself and ended up being led by a seagull and a bohemian seer whose cure for writing block was to take up painting.
Nothing about my trip so far made any sense so I reserved judgment on the value of taking up painting and followed the advice of my strange new Muses—but a pelican named Gus?
It was as if the universe was smiling inscrutably back at me and saying, Go figure, so I did.
I drove into Sarasota the next day, ending up at St. Armand’s Circle where I found a shop that sold painting supplies. I bought a wooden easel, brushes, oils and several canvases.
I lingered enjoying the ambiance, sitting at an outdoor café, deliberately avoiding putting oil to canvas that day. But next morning I was out on the beach setting up my easel in a patch of sea oats beneath a shady tree that afforded an unbroken view of sea, shore and sky.
I painted until noon and completed a small canvas that was primitive, but charming, or so I thought. But I had no sooner packed up my supplies then Gus fluttered down and was pulling at my pant leg and I was off on a new adventure.
Our little jaunt took me off the beach and back towards the town, but along the way I dropped off the easel and paint supplies at my cottage and got out the bicycle from the shed so I could keep up with my feathered friend.
It was a wise decision. We ended up a few miles away at a small craft shop and deli. As I was leaning my bike up against the wall, a beautiful girl came out and began feeding Gus from a can of sardines.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
She looked up and smiled. “Oh yeah, Gus and I are old friends—he adopted me about a year ago just after my fiancé died. We’ve been buddies ever since.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes beginning to mist at the thought. But after a brief pause, she regained her composure and added, “He really did help you know. I was a total mess for months and he got me to smile again. He actually led me to this place when I was looking for a shop.”
“Did he pull you by the sleeve?” I smiled.
She looked at me funny, with huge brown eyes. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because that’s how he brought me here today. I just followed him on my bike.”
She was assessing something—staring first at me, and then back at Gus. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind.
“Well, if Gus brought you here, maybe he wants you to have lunch. We’ve got the best custom made sandwiches on the island.”
“Sounds great.”
She turned and gave me a sidelong glance in the bright sunlight. For a brief moment, I caught a light in her eyes that melted me and knew why Gus had brought me here.
Rose was right. I sensed an inward music within me drawing me. Life was demanding something of me and I was finally answering the call.
