FF's

It comes over our family like a virus. It cannot be predicted. It can strike any time of day or night and it does not care which member of the family it infects. Once one of us gets infected, it spreads throughout the rest of the family in a matter of hours, if not minutes. We used to rebuke the one who first catches it, but now we have learned that this is part of being in this family. This possible genetic deficiency is part of who we are. We used to fight it, but now we know our struggle is futile. My wife was the last to resign herself to it and now she is like me and the kids in our weakness. It's debilitating. It affects how we talk, what we eat, what we wear, what we discuss. It affects our television viewing, what music we listen to and what pictures my kids draw.

This "virus" causes such an ache, almost a physical hunger, in us and when we all get it, we are done. We look to each other for support, for tips and tricks to curb our pain. We take solace in the fact we are in this together and soon we will each have our hunger temporarily satisfied.

We call this crushing virus - Florida Feelings. My daughter calls them FF's for short.

We were in the dead of winter a few years ago. We were all getting out of my wife's Explorer to all go into Publix when my daughter was infected. "Dad, I just had a Florida Feeling." Without any time to react, I feel what she feels. We all go to Publix at the beach and we always take my wife's car. While we have gone to Publix in her Explorer many more times in Georgia than in Florida, our time at the beach is so special to us, that those memories win.

Now I am done. Instead of buying groceries for soups and starchy casseroles, I am begging my wife to let me buy ingredients for tacos. I find myself picking through mealy tasting strawberries and oranges, trying to recapture the tastes from our favorite place. I remind myself to change into shorts the minute I get home, in spite of the 40 degree weather.

My daughter and I giggle as we smell the few bottles of tanning lotion in the grocery store. I tell her that I used to put a little on my upper lip so I could smell that wonderful scent wherever I went. She joins me in this family ritual and I question my actions. It's like giving a shopaholic a credit card and a used bag from the mall. I see her eyes light up as she breathes in the sweet coconut smell. It is times like these that I know she is my daughter. We are created from the same stuff.

My wife's attitude begins to turn as as all start to sing along to the Jack Johnson CD in the car as we go home. She begins to imagine the smell the skirt steak coming off the grill. When she asks how many weeks of vacation I can use this summer, I know she has come over to the other side. Her eyes are wide and clear and she is gone. I love her so much.

As we sit down to eat our grilled steak tacos with homemade salsa, I dig our copy of Surf's Up and we all enjoy our summertime feast. My son is the last to be infected. However, when he sees the computer animated penguins surfing on the beautiful sun soaked beach, he speaks the collective thought of our family, "Man, I wanna go to the beach."

Yeah, bud. We all do.