Digging my toes into the sand as I walk among the beauty of low tide, my eyes were skimming the ground for anything perfect. And it came from the ocean; a flower of such a red hue. Captivating. My thoughts disappeared and everything was bliss for this small moment. Nothing mattered. I stood alone, taking in the sun and half-shaven, holding a flower. As my thoughts began to rush back as if another wave had crashed, a woman came up to me. Tears were among her face and all I could think is this is for her. As she stare into my eyes, I began to walk past, along the way giving her the flower. She mouthed something to me, my sudden stop had become an apparent move.
“My husband was buried here.”
“My motivation was given life here,” I say.
And with this exchange and the ever-setting sun, I watch as once more she begins her once a year day of giving back to this beautiful world with another toss of the flower. Her torture is so moving. Her passion; inevitable.
I’ll be back to touch your pedals, I’ll be back to catch your smile.
-Mike Detelj on Florida
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