Yeah, I've got some 'splaining to do.

Where have I been for the past two months? Well, in this order ... entertaining my son, DIL and granddaughters, acquiring freelance clients, doing yoga, going into anaphylactic shock from bug bites(twice, including a very embarrassing incident at the local Taco Bell) and totally letting someone into my life for the first time in a very long time.

We kayaked by daylight among the manatee and dolphins on Tarpon Bay, we kayaked on the night of the full moon and watched it rise red and gorgeous over the inky blackness of San Carlos Bay.

There were two disastrous dismounts on my part, one on Bunche Beach in the afternoon - I managed to get myself tangled in my paddle in 2' of water to the delight of some crotchety cacklers on the beach - and shown here, me the retard the night of the full moon. I guess if I had tripped at another angle, there could have been two full moons ...

The water is bath temperature right now.

"We" were getting more wonderful in every way with each passing day. Then he went home on Thursday. It's not easy going back to my old life, the usual suspects in the usual places. It used to be fun. Now it's just painful.

Today an interested party asked "Where ya bin?" And I said "dating a snowbird." What a crass way to sum up incredible intensity.

And he looked at me like "Wow, I had no clue you were that stupid." But what he did say out loud was "well, you have no one to blame but yourself for the pain you're in." Amen. Amen. I've been pouring heart and soul into that guy for months knowing I might never see him again.

"Dance like nobody's watching ... love like you've never been hurt."

Last night - my third night without him - was worse because I had a big interview scheduled at the Iron Rhino in the morning. The Iron Rhino is a biker bar south of Naples. The client didn't even bother to show up - he trusted me to do it right.

I'm used to the agency mentality wherein you bend to another's creative will. At first the thought of not having anyone to answer to was frightening, then I realized this is my chance to do what I have always wanted to do. Let real people tell real stories in their own words.

Dan, the videographer, was ready to bend to my will but I can't work that way. These things have to be an interplay of who does what best.

My client is a prominent local attorney devoted to the safety and well-being of bikers. I met this particular biker at Mash Bash a few weeks back. He's 315 lbs. of muscle, big as Grisly Adams with hands that are more like paws. His eyes reveal the physical pain he's in, but his words are SO soft.

He is the typical biker as I have come to know them - no bullshit, heart of gold. A husband, a father, a really good guy.

His name is Wiley. On March 19 he was stopped at a light on his way to work when he was rear-ended by a 300M at 40mph+. The driver was changing radio stations; instead, he changed Wiley's life.

Wiley hurtled forward 80' before smashing into a minivan. He held onto the bike with such ferocity that the handlebars were bent back to his knees and he had to be peeled off the bike.

He doesn't remember a thing; but his wife remembers everything that happened after that.

By the time she made it to the scene all there was was a bloody bike. She had no idea what to expect, whether he would live or die. The cops had declared it vehicular homicide because they did not expect Wiley to live.

I meant to interview Wiley alone when it occurred the story would be more powerful if they told it together. I could picture the giant protector of a man helpless in bed with his tiny wife trying to hold their lives together.

At one point during taping he reached out to hold her hand, they bowed their heads and lost it. We'd been having a problem with background noise in the bar, but at that point you could hear a pin drop.

You could feel their pain. You look in his eyes and you know the physical pain has not gone away since the accident.

You understood that nobody can just walk away from something like that. They both have a long way to go.

Lives really do change in a heartbeat. That theme would play itself out twice in one day.

I got word that another biker had called and asked us to stay til he got there. By the time Russ walked in Dan and I were getting tired. Russ looked tired too. He sat down and started babbling ... then he confessed it might not be a good day for an interview because his 94-year-old mother died the previous night.

I told him my 96-year-old grandmother died two years ago this month.

He opened up and told me at least his mother had been cleared of the battery charges. ???

I thought he was joking ... but no. He said she was in a senior community up in Minnesota and somehow decided - in the middle of the night - that she needed groceries. When she got to the front door with her quad cane - http://www.aboutcanes.com/grqula.html - the night watchman told her "nobody out after 10."

Then he made the mistake of standing in her way.

I can't even picture this - in one swift ninjalike motion, Russ's mom broke the guard's jaw with her quad cane. Then she stepped over the body and walked through the front doors. There were two cops waiting when she came back with her groceries.

I asked Russ if she had her right mind and he said "oh, absolutely."

Then I confessed that I'd told someone at work about my Grandma dying at 96. My young coworker said "Oh, that's horrible. How did it happen?" I said "Knife fight in a biker bar" and it took her brain one full minute to process that information as a joke.

Russ and I had a little laugh. Except that maybe if that had been Russ's mom, that wouldn't be so far fetched.

I told Russ we needed to do his interview some other time, he needed to give himself a break.

He came back within ten minutes and said "you're not going to believe this." A husband/wife couple was riding within a few miles of the Iron Rhino when the husband's bike was clipped by a Jeep Cherokee (?) and both bikes flew. Other riders who happened upon the scene said the husband died on impact and the wife was unconscious with serious injuries to her skull and foot.

There at the Iron Rhino, grown men had tears in their eyes.

It was a tough, emotional day. I left it thinking about the skull symbolisms among the bikers. It's almost Buddhist in that Buddhism tells us to lose our fear of death by accepting and facing it. Bikers are nearly fearless.

If you'll notice, though - these accidents weren't the fault of the bikers, they were the fault of drivers who were not paying attention.

PAY ATTENTION.

And please say a few prayers for Wiley and Susan and the poor woman who will wake up to learn her husband is gone.