Roy Orbison in Stereo

Now Playing: “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison

In the South, they drink Coca-Cola in glass bottles and plop salted peanuts down the neck.

My ersatz kid sister hails from the Carolinas, near where Ava Gardner was born. She said salted peanuts and Coca-Cola enjoyed like that are a Southern delicacy.

The boulevard smells like bratwursts and hot dogs sputtering on charcoal grills. Iguanas and baby lizards dart across the pavement between intermittent showers.

I did my usual walk, getting my cold brew coffee with cold foam (they know my order by heart now), my trip to the Walmart to covet cosmetics I don’t need, and then, inevitably, to buy a pack of American Spirits from the little bodega up the road.

On the way, I saw a heron with a chestnut coat. He was gentle and long necked, his beak darting across the drought-ridden lawns. I grinned at him, me a Midwest transplant, staring at a large tropical bird. The peppermint gum almost fell out of my mouth, I was in such awe.

The sober house is empty, save for me and the laundry machine that murmurs. I did two loads today and took a long, hot shower after my walk across Boynton Beach.

My kid sister surprised me this morning with a little stuffed animal I’d been eyeing, a winking Japanese bird with pointy ears and rosy cheeks.

The showers have stopped for now and I have music on my stereo. Roy Orbison reaching into the far corners of my heart.