Leasha Folk
As a seven-year-old visiting Grandma’s retirement community (Spanish Lakes Fairways in Fort Pierce, Florida), I enjoyed scampering to the mailbox every day. I usually refused to wear shoes during these daily excursions to the end of the driveway, but the tarmac always felt warm beneath my bare feet.
Inevitably, whenever I ran to the mailbox, some of Grandma’s friendly neighbors would drive by. Somebody’s grandmother would wave. Another person’s grandfather would smile at me. They probably enjoyed the sight of a seven-year-old skipping around her grandmother’s house, and I felt loved and at home in Spanish Lakes Fairways.
During the eight years that Grandma lived in Spanish Lakes Fairways, I always looked forward to visiting her and the community—I wish I could go back. I would see the many people I grew to love, visit the house where I spent a month with Gramps before he died, and walk to the swimming pool on a sweltering summer day. But even though Grandma no longer lives in Spanish Lakes Fairways, and I have no reason to return, I treasure the many memories of my visits.
One of my favorite memories about Spanish Lakes Fairways involves Florida’s flat landscape. Mom was driving through the community with Grandma and me one summer day when she suddenly swerved into the left lane before immediately pulling back to her side of the road. Grandma almost had a heart attack. “What are you doing—trying to kill us?” she yelled. Continuing to drive, Mom calmly explained that, since the road was flat and she could see for miles, she simply had been saving a grasshopper from an untimely death.
I should have known from this incident with the grasshopper that many other animals would cross my path during my visits to Spanish Lakes Fairways. For instance, Mom and I once caught a cute gecko (one of many such creatures that sunbathed on Grandma’s screened-in porch). A day later when we decided to release the gecko whom we had named Joe, Mom came up with a seemingly wonderful idea—that I should allow Joe to run up my arm on his way to freedom. But when I obediently stuck my hand in Joe’s jar, he opened his tiny mouth and bit my finger.
During another visit, my family drove around the community searching for armadillos. We failed in our mission but discovered a cute gray fox scratching fleas. Also, during the month Mom and I spent with my grandparents, we enjoyed going for walks late at night. While our stinky bug repellant warded off the bugs (and Grandma), the discovery of a dead snake and what we thought were alligator eyes peering at us from the lake during one of our excursions dampened our enthusiasm for walking.
My most comical encounter with the animals of Spanish Lakes occurred one evening after dinner. Mom, Grandma, and I walked outside to say goodbye to Dot (one of Grandma’s friends) who had ridden her bike since she lived just down the street from Grandma’s house. As Dot started to mount her bike, a little frog hopped off the seat to make room for her—scaring Dot nearly to death. It took a few minutes, but after recovering from her fright, Dot affectionately named the frog José.
Even though the animals made life at Spanish Lakes Fairways interesting, the people were the ones who created a loving environment and welcomed me to the community. Gloria, Grandma’s next-door neighbor, is one example. Although she was sometimes cantankerous, Gloria welcomed my family into her home and fed us pizza. Another one of Grandma’s friends, Dot, cooked dinner for Mom, Grandma, and I after she found out that we had eaten chips and Mexican bean dip for dinner one night. (Dot and her husband, Bill, also challenged my family to strenuous games of chicken-feet dominoes.) A couple who lived around the corner from Grandma, Don and Faith, invited us into their home, gave us tickets for a God with Us cantata at their church, and made chocolate-soda milkshakes for Mom and me. Also, Grandma gladly welcomed me every time my family visited her—taking me with her to the bocce ball court, obtaining visitor’s passes for the swimming pool, and introducing me to her friends.
When the people, animals, and landscape failed to hold my interest, the community itself provided many opportunities for my imaginative family to have fun. One of Grandma’s friends owned a golf cart (a necessity in that community), and since he happened to be away when we visited, he allowed us to use his cart. We enjoyed driving that cart around the community in the evenings.
In addition, the pool was a brief walk (made even shorter if you rollerbladed) from Grandma’s house. As a result, during the hot month of July, Grandma, Mom, and I often loaded ourselves into the cart and drove to the pool with a giant zebra inner tube sticking out the back.
I feel as if I’m somehow returning home when I recall all these wonderful memories. I wish I could go back and once again feel the warm tarmac beneath my feet as I run to the mailbox. I always felt safe in Grandma’s community. Spanish Lakes Fairways was a paradise where the flat landscape, unique animals, friendly people, and opportunities for fun combined to make it the perfect place for a seven-year-old to feel loved.
