Abeyance (from the Old French abeance meaning “gaping”) is a state of expectancy in respect of property, titles or office, when the right to them is not vested in any one person, but awaits the appearance or determination of the true owner. In law, the term abeyance can be applied only to such future estates as have not yet vested or possibly may not vest. For example, an estate is granted to A for life, with remainder to the heir of B. Following A’s death, if B is still alive, the remainder is in abeyance, for B has no heirs until B’s death.

The term hold in abeyance is used in lawsuits and court cases when a case is temporarily put on hold.

The most common use of the term is in the case of English peerage dignities. Most such peerages pass to heirs-male, but the ancient baronies created by writ, as well as some very old earldoms, pass instead to heirs-general (by cognatic primogeniture). In this system, sons are preferred from eldest to youngest, the heirs of a son over the next son, and any son over daughters, but there is no preference among daughters: they or their heirs inherit equally.

No question.  We are presently in a state of abeyance. Suspension and dormancy. Though assuredly not as complicated as a lawsuit or primogeniture. Nonetheless there prevails what are undoubtedly the common traits of expectancy and unresolved postponement.  For people such as I (that is, those affected by obsession) these traits are singular parameters because the record of my existence is confined to daily absorption not the so-called bigger picture (which I know from experience is often unpredictable). Accordingly we have assumed the ambient mood, a description derived from the French word meaning “go around “ which captures the circular nature of our remaining stay on Key Largo. We’re not exactly spinning our wheels but the launch pad is nearby. The further providence is that we’ve contracted with the estate agent to return next year.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot

Meanwhile the women in the pool, clucking like chickens, speaking the indecipherable dialect of native communication. Gales of laughter, some no doubt enjoying the sound of their own expression as it rises amid the balmy breeze to the swaying fronds of the curved silvery palm trees.

Typically there are those who express regret upon leaving Key Largo. I have as regularly pooh-poohed such sentimental rubbish. But this time I am not so sure. Getting past 90°F, azure skies, billowing white clouds on the horizon and a balmy breeze is proving to be more difficult than I had thought. Underlying the remorse is the glory of having found Key Largo in the twilight of my life.  For several years Key Largo has been an aim of mine; and notwithstanding that my immobility this year has kept me somewhat restrained I nonetheless rejoice at the fortuity of being here at last.

Chance has once again wedged into the mixture.  This afternoon after grocery shopping, as I was tricycling in the sun and shade about the neighbourhood, I met Dan the Man (of western music celebrity). Upon my enquiry he offered to take us for a spin in his launch upon the turquoise sea.  Coincidentally only moments earlier His Lordship and I had been discussing the very possibility! His Lordship did not however gleefully take up the prospect but had at least the courtesy to set the project aside for next year.

Now, having initiated the enterprise (admittedly one of my suppressed yearnings), I have the further consolation of reporting a successful though unwitting attempt.  The sea indubitably constitutes an essential ingredient of Key Largo.  Although I have regularly swum in the sea (approaching the distant buoys as close as possible without overtly disturbing the roosting seagulls) it marks a triumph merely to address the opportunity of an outing upon the sea.  We have previously taken the catamaran from Fort Myers to Key West; but this one addresses the more proximate and private maritime invitation.

It demands – or at the very least warrants – mentioning that Dan the Man was a difficult man with whom to bargain.  Repeatedly I emphasized our explicit intention to pay for this privilege. He  was however unperturbed. We may have reached an agreement to contribute to his local charity whether directly or vicariously.  This exploit like all others in this window is limited by the imminent date of departure. Nothing is a yet written in stone but my sense is that it will happen. Narrowing this foresight is the critical fact that Dan the Man is concurrently engaged in a number of important business and domestic matters which naturally supersede these idle intentions of mine.