Lupita, The real chicken of the sea.  By Jason Scott Breniser

Every day in beautiful Key West, Florida, a Lupita wakes up, sings to the world of her awaking, then takes on the hot Floridian sun. She’s hungry.
Driving into town I see a large billboard with huge red lettering that say’s LUPITA’S. I immediately drift into space and imagine if I were calling Lupita’s Mexican restaurant, would Lupita answer the phone? Would she say, “Thank You por colleen Loupitah’s, Dis es Loupitahh.” I imagine a short Mexican woman with highlighted curly black hair. She’s wearing a neon blue blouse with green flowers, pink spandex high waters, and sensible shoes. She’s fabulous.
So, I recite to myself the name Lupita a few more times before it latches onto my brain. As the hot days roll on by Shawn starts catching on to the Lupita phenomenon. Taking a break from the job hunt, we were sitting on a stone wall in the middle of town somewhere where there were about ten chickens. Shawn informs me that there are Roosters too, but if they have a beak, two legs, and peck around frantically searching for the last morsel on earth, they are chicken enough for me. Regardless of gender or how fabulous their feather glistens in the sun, still a chicken.
“Lupita, Lupita. Come here girl.” I say as I am trying to get one of the chickens to come to me. Unfortunately we were foodless, and the chicken mob wasn’t having any of that. After the failed attempt we went back on the job hunt. After which, pretty much all chickens down here in this tourist hot spot had adopted the name Lupita from Shawn and I.
Lupita came up to us a couple times a few times so far the past few days. Shawn was feeding Lupita my Fig Newton bar that I had just bought five minutes before using the Shell station restroom. Lupita danced feverishly to the tip of the bar and devoured my 89 cent wholesome snack. Scavenger.
Lupita’s eating habits has become a little bit of a problem. I told Shawn that I wanted to consume the rest of the sun dried basil Wheat Thins, but when I discovered an empty bag of Thins on my Lumina’s floorboard I knew what had happened, Lupita.
Lupita just wants one thing, food. Pecking for food is a constant trend for Lupita. Even after an entire Newton, Lupita feverishly pecks the ground in her desperate attempt to acquire another piece. Lupita doesn’t care. She’s going to scurry across Route 1 if she wants to. There’s an eighteen wheeler barreling around the bend; Lupita doesn’t care. If there is a single morsel across that busy highway, she’s going to snatch it. Lupita takes what she wants; she’s a honey badger at heart.
Lupita is Butch, hungry all seasons, and hurricane ready. Lupita weathers any storm. She’s learned to not wait for the storm to pass but to dance in the rain; she shines her own sky. This is Lupita’s Island, the real chicken of the sea. Hurricanes scare the people away, but not Lupita. When the water falls back into the Atlantic, what remains? Lupita.
When I see Lupita, I don’t see a woman of worries. I wish I was a fabulous pecking assortment of feathers and no worries. Since being on the island of new beginnings I have found that I forgot how to enjoy the experience. Yes the beach and the boyfriend has been absolutely wonderful, but being in a space of worry prevents us from having fun sometimes. Thank you Lupita, I see my better, happier self in you. You are a plethora of wisdom, love, and beauty; A rare beauty with a very large appetite, like Shawn and I. We relate to the part about Lupita’s appetite the most; we LOVE pizza.
I’ve learned something from all of the Lupita’s on this island; When the Universe blows a hurricane in your direction, plant your feet into the dirt, fluff your feather’s, and let it pass. After the fun is over, come out of the hole and get back to pecking. A storm is simply a buildup of energy that explodes when pricked at the right moment. When the storm passes, life continues and the Universe grants us the ability to move on. When we travel with the storm, we are constantly stuck in a cyclone of negativity that prevents us from seeing the light. If we stay put and let this negativity pass, the light will come back and we are able to move on.
Whether Lupita is a chicken ready to devour a fig bar and take on the next hurricane or a sensible woman with fabulous clothes matching her personality, we can relate. The truth is, we are all Lupita’s at heart. We all have worn fabulous flowered blouses with pink spandex. Well… At least I know I have.

 Lupita