Apalachicola

There are places that I visit that make me wish I could write with more skill about the world I experience. Apalachicola is one of those places. I came down here with my family and friends to run a scenic half marathon, but the run ended up being secondary to the natural gifts of beauty I've been granted. I don't have enough descriptive words for the sun setting over the marshy rivers below my balcony, and a full moon revealing itself as the day collapsed into the water. I want to describe the moment where the night turned into day as I ran across a bridge over a bay this morning. I want to explain how the passion of the sea and sky combined with an inner gratitude to my Creator for being able to run into, then out of, that moment. How I was overwhelmed and brought to tears that I haven't cried before. I want to describe the inner courtyard garden, where I write these words, to somehow invite everyone into the mystery of three hundred years of architecture and trees protected from angry storms. The same garden my daughter and I call secret and play in and would play in forever if allowed. There are so many other places and things that I have seen. I don't have enough words. Or, maybe I don't have enough time because I'm ready to see more before it's all over.