Given that my friends farther up the East Coast are being tantalized and simultaneously harassed by a blizzard, certainly I can say that it’s better in the Bahamas because the weather is pretty close to perfect. That isn’t to say that I don’t adore the seasons and their idiosyncratic personalities, for I do. But there’s something to be said for pulling out shorts in the middle of the winter. There’s a lot to be said for spending your days challenged by such weighty decisions as whether to go to the beach or the pool. I would imagine that if this was the routine of life, my brain would get a little squishy. For a week though – bring it on.
I’m reading a lot, alternating chapters with naps induced by the ocean’s music – which trumps anything on my iPhone. I have somewhat lost all sense of time and I don’t miss it. Andy and I spend a lot of time behaving with embarrassing immaturity. It’s ok, there’s no one here who knows us. Even the seagulls seem to be happy to be here – despite the intrusion of parasailers interrupting their orbits of the sea. Andy is golfing this afternoon; I am sitting here listening to laughter echoing off the beach and feeling beyond peaceful.
Perhaps it’s better in the Bahamas because it is a moment in time. There is no doubt that I will be ready to go home when next Wednesday rolls around because I’ll be missing my kids, the Sirs, my home – the life I have made. It makes today all the sweeter, all the more delicious because it is a treat. A moment to step outside myself and be inside myself. And just feel abundantly free.
Waiting for the Karma Truck 