I walk along water while my feet touch white sand. To the side are small hills made from a reddish sand which has been compacted over the years to finally be soft stone. Here and there lava-like material squeezed through to make black ridges on the landscape. The water is light blue when closest to the sand and a deep and alarming black-blue when the ocean is profound.
Coming to me is my dog. Much like the land, she asks not much but to be loved and cared for. So little for so much in return. This valiant animal bounds as if on springs and goes in different directions as her ears make a mockery of coordinated movement. Her eyes are wide and happy while her amazing overdeveloped long tongue flows out of her jaws and back to her face. This animal speaks wordlessly of pure joy.
Behind comes a boy. He is not mine as I am not his. We are each others' and the comfort of knowing that makes life easy and smooth. He laughs at the dog. The dog does not laugh at him.
I stop walking and look at these two beings and know that they are a reflection of all that is right. All that is Caribbean and all that is of this island. I forget the small nothingness and irritations that surrounds us. They are insignificant compared to the splendor of life and should not be discussed - so I do not.
We sit on sand, the three of us. My son to my right and our dog to his right. The animal has buried his nose into the lap of my boy and he, has in turn leaned his on my shoulder. It becomes afternoon and then the sun leaves us - so that the brilliance of night can visit, and it does. Vincent painted starry nights - God painted those of Aruba.
This is a good place to be
Isn't it? And think of this - I see this vividly and have never left my desk. And that is magic.