Paradise Palms

 Paradise Palms 

As I took a long morning walk near the Florida hotel we are staying at while visiting my ailing, aging mother-in-law, I turned into a development with the words ‘Paradise Palms’ on a sign with a palm tree logo in front.  Ah, to turn on to Paradise, to find some much-desired peace and solace from the difficult few days here. It was a clear blue-sky day with luscious clouds overhead. All the houses in this development were small ranch-style houses, and almost everyone had a palm tree on the property. How lovely, I thought, to have palms everywhere. I even saw an occasional bougainvillea bush, my absolute favorite. I passed a dog walker, an older lady on a bicycle, and a few service people arriving for work in their trucks. Here and there was an American flag.

And then there was... the Trump flag. Why is it still so triggering to witness a giant, defiant Trump flag swaying haphazardly in the wind? It’s March. It’s over.  Who are these people who live here in this house proudly brandishing this symbol of hate and division? What made them unable to take that flag down?  Who is this person or people who still hold on to and wish to perpetuate the horrors that were those four years? Have the neighbors complained or did they just put their flags away? 

I do not know. What I do know is - this is not the Paradise they promised at the entrance. Evidently I turned down the wrong street.