I write this for the many people that keep returning and calling Aruba a special place. Thank you for that.
I counted my year, then months and as they dwindled down I counted the weeks. Now it is but days and I am in a haze of worry for having prepared well to leave this behind and wondering if I will be able to soak in all that I have anticipated, enough so to bring it back and set me on another cycle, similar to the last.
I remember this feeling well when a child and I counted till Friday. Then I started counting the days to Sunday and the park where we would talk. I remember what it is to have pure anticipation - the vows, the child, the birth and so many other glorious moments. All of them keeping me on watch and at bay and saying softly – “Wait – the best is yet to come” – and it did.
Then, by happenstance, I found this place. A place where I walk with body and float with soul. A place that calls to me and says “never-you-mind-the-others, this is where your thoughts reside”. It says to me “ I am only soil afloat in oceans, but you cannot be what you are from where you come from if you do not taste of me”. This place is not filled with green forests but instead hosts harsh cacti. Not all shores are white on turquoise – some are black on blue. This place speaks multiple languages with few that are forked. This place overwhelms the movies I waited for on Saturday and pales the shy girl I talked to on Sundays in the park. This place does not compare with the birth of my child – no – it is different, this place is the birth of me – day after day after day (when there) I am born once again.
I have walked a shore and seen her beauty for the very first time and the splendor of this is that I have had this “first time” day after day. It is not that I feel younger there – no. It is not that I feel prettier to see when there – no. It is not that I feel stronger or healthier or better – no. It is far better than that. It is that I feel.
And knowing that senses will be pinched a bit and that I will lull into a place that is quite simply good – I find myself reflecting on the years I have counted, then months and as they dwindled down I counted the weeks. Now it is but days and I am in a haze of worry for having prepared well to leave this behind and wondering if I will be able to soak in all that I have anticipated, enough so to bring it back and set me on another cycle, similar to the last.
Aruba has me constantly counting.