The Year Begins with Breakfast.

Michael whips up his homey and comforting egg and sausage biscuit sandwich. It is a pleasant and welcome surprise. The biscuit has a soft pillowy center and crunchy bottom—my preference—creamy scrambled eggs with a touch of cheese and savory sausage. No one could do it better. And even though it is January first, we stick with plain OJ and coffee—there is no bubby anywhere in our Galveston rental—and no champagne glasses, even though there seems to be almost everything else we need.

A Walk in the Mist

Postponing our morning walk till the fog lifts seems to be wishful thinking on our part, so I grab my camera—Michael grabs his—and we set off. Within minutes we cross the street and arrive at our destination. The Gulf of Mexico is at our feet, but only foreknowledge tells us so. Our view is through layers of gray mist. But still, individuals walk on the sand by the sea. Some walk their dogs, some gather in groups, bring their beach chairs, planting an umbrella in the sand—hoping for the sun.

We pass Gaido’s—a restaurant legend, and see a diner tiny bit beyond that boasts they serve beignets, only one among other items that tempt me. I make a mental note to stop there soon. We see a sign for a three-course dinner with a bourbon tasting at at Brick House Tavern that edges Seawall Boulevard.

Michael says, “Why don’t we do that?” I snap a picture, so I know what to Google once we are back at the house.

An Impromptu Stop

Eventually, we cross the busy boulevard and head inland. I look up and see we are on Avenue S—the street where we live, at least for the next two months. Looking ahead, we see colorful umbrellas on the sidewalk—closed up tight. There is still no sun. But it is Queen’s BBQ and their first Sunday to serve brunch. We look at each other and say, “Why not?”

Walking through their open door, we step up to the counter and order a plate of Smoked Brisket Migas to share. It is surprisingly delicious. I wash it down with a mimosa served in a small glass jar.

Sitting here, on the corner of Avenue S and 35th Street, we see a young man balancing on a fast skateboard with a pizza box in his hand. I’m charmed and think of our first night in Amsterdam when I glanced out a restaurant window and saw men in suits riding their bicycles—one sitting on the handlebars while another pedaled. Jackets flying in the wind.

I also remember Spain and a Sunday in Seville when we stumbled on a sidewalk café and stopped and had tapas. I like this life on foot where serendipity takes you places, and you are not speeding by too fast to stop, breathe, and inhale the day.

The Whimsy of Avenue S

But this is Galveston, and there is the remainder of Avenue S to explore—at least a portion of the remainder of our street. Avenue S is ultra-long—I think our temporary home is somewhere in the middle.

We walk and stop and look and I love the whimsy of what I see.

Further on, I look down and see two artists paint brushes on the side walk. Everything is closed up tight—there is no one to ask their origin or ownership or if they are trash. I pick the small brushes up off the ground, show them to Michael and wonder, Is the world trying to send me a message?