Thoughts of Yolanda

Thoughts of Yolanda

(A week ago today, Yolanda Garvin Williams was killed in the parking lot of Parrish Medical Center, the hospital where I work. She was gunned down by her husband, whom she'd left a month earlier after years of abuse.)

I asked the man in the bass boat if the island before me in the St. Johns River was Hontoon Island. “No,” he said. “It’s about three miles downstream.” “You’ll see a pier in the water.” I paddled on.

I had loaded my kayak on top of my Escape at 6 am. I swung through MacDonalds for a sausage and egg biscuit on my way out of town. I washed it down with coffee from my orange and black mug emblazoned with the big orange T as I headed for Orange City. I remembered that my sister, Jackie, had said that the stretch of river between Blue Spring and Hontoon Island was pretty and I was looking forward to quiet morning of introspection and renewal.

When I arrived at Orange City, I turned left on French Avenue and proceeded past the entrance to Blue Spring, toward the river. The road turned to dirt, took a sharp dog-leg to the left and then opened up to a boat ramp and parking area. There were only two other vehicles there and they appeared to belong to a couple of guys fishing from the bank. After launching out into the River, I spotted the man in the bass boat.

Heading downstream toward Hontoon Island, the air was heavy and the temperature was already above 80 and it wasn’t even 8 am. The sunlight filtered through the cypress trees along the river to my right and lit up the opposite bank. In short order, I spotted an osprey in the top of a tall cypress, a great blue heron on a fallen tree trunk, and a good sized alligator lazily swimming across the river in front of me from left to right. As I got a little closer, the gator sank beneath the dark water, leaving nary a ripple.

I reached Hontoon Island about 9:30. I beached the kayak and stretched my legs a bit, taking the opportunity to munch on some peanut butter crackers and down a cold bottle of water. I explored a large lagoon to the South of the island before heading back upstream. I wanted to be out of the water about noon, before the temperature hit the 90’s and before any storms developed.

As I rounded the turn back into the main channel, I got a chuckle from a small gator that started to surface near my boat. The quiet shadow of my boat must have startled it as it swam below. It turned about quickly with a loud splash and surfaced again about twenty feet in front of my boat, swimming for all it was worth.

Heading back upstream, I hugged the left bank trying to catch some shade from the trees. The air was filled with croaking frogs, grunting gators and singing birds, as it had been since I set out three hours earlier. Then, behind me, off to the left, far out into the swamp beyond the river, came the deep call of an owl. I coasted noiselessly for a bit till the oncoming current almost brought me to a full stop. The picture of Yolanda flashing that million-dollar smile suddenly filled the screen in my head as it had the screen in the church last Saturday.

Peace. Like a river. At last. Amen.

Jerald