I woke to the sound of waves crashing on the beach and peered out my window beyond the lit sand path and into the darkness. I laid back in bed and listened to the waves, just audible over the whir of the air conditioning unit, and felt a sense of having dreamed this moment and place before.
I prepared a cup of coffee as light started to filter onto the water and the cicadas began to overpower all other sounds. I sprayed myself down with citronella and walked barefoot onto the wooden porch with my coffee cup and saucer, and sat listening to the cicadas and the waves in the warm, damp air. I took my second cup down to the water's edge, just steps from my bungalow, and took photos as the sun struggled to peek out from behind storm clouds. Stray dogs and people sauntered by while several swimmers played in the water in front of anchored fishing boats.
It's something to have someone back home that makes you excited to leave paradise and return to his waiting arms.
I dropped off my empty cup in my bungalow and walked along the beach looking for a better vantage point for my photos. I stepped off the sandy beach and onto the rocky shoreline that looped around the island. A crab scurried across a rock and reminded me of the book "Beachcombing at Miramar". A young man with a fishing pole joined me on the rocks.
It started to rain, so I slowly made my way back to my private bungalow where my brightly colored swimsuit stood out on the wood decking, drying from yesterday's snorkel. The cool air felt soothing as I stepped into my room and sat on my bed, looking out the sliding doors to the ocean. My phone displayed 22 new messages and I responded to the only one that mattered.
"It would be awesome if you were here."
"As long as I was with you."
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