Debby Does…

I love connections. The universe is continually blowing my mind with this stuff, and, little ol’ Debby never sees it coming.

We’ve spent the last few weeks, on and off, at our home on Sanibel Island. Obviously, this is a place recovering, rebuilding, and reawakening post 2022’s Hurricane Ian. Our house has been for sale for several months, and I’ve learned a lot about how people view life and change in that time, especially when it comes to hurricane damage or evidence.

As I’ve said before, I’ve always been a “warts and all” kind of person. I’ve gotten banged up pretty good in the past 53 years—from my 4 inch appendix scar to my head versus phone booth run in (don’t ask), my breast cancer scars, radiation freckles and tattoos, and, of course, 5th period piano wrinkles—my life is showing, all over my face and body.

And, most days, I’m good with that.

I want to document my journey. That’s not to say that I haven’t dabbled in some botox or considered some fillers, here and there. I’m a fan of make up and looking glam, but, on the daily, I’m a product of all that’s happened to me and that I’ve made happen—like that phone booth. I’m okay with my life showing.

What I noticed about some of our potential buyers and visitors to Sanibel is that they don’t want to know that the hurricane happened. They don’t want to mark the water line or accept the differences. They want to pretend Ian never visited. I guess to each their own, but I don’t think I could go through life that way. It makes me think of the scene in “Moonstruck” when John Mahoney insults yet another young woman in a restaurant and has a drink thrown in his face. He tells the waiter to clear away every shred of her, as though she had never been there.

Well, Ian has been here, so has Charley and lots of their other tropical friends. You cannot erase it. And, life has been here, all over Debby, and you, if you let it show.

Each time I see the Indigo Girls with my bestie, Nay Nay, we get choked up as we sing to each other, “With every lesson learned, a line upon your beautiful face.” (Get Out the Map)

I think life with all its cruel tricks and stunning gifts is worth showing. Whether it’s mapping its way across my face and body or reminding me that 7 feet of water once rushed through here, I have not been on this journey alone. Change and growth and trauma and joy are walking by my side, making sure that I recognize that survival is victory and waking to see the sun rise another day is a privilege—whether you are a person or an island.

So, you’ll have to excuse me if my life is showing. It’s a choice and a gift.

Now, about my neck…