Island Dreams

    I dream of being on an island surrounded by brilliant green sea, a place where palm trees sprout from soft white sand. I want the sun to shine bright and the sky shine blue. The fresh air breezes caress my bare arms. I watch the boats tied to the docks slow dancing with the lazy waves. More boats rest on the beach. At my table beneath the palapa,  I kick off my sandals and feel the sand between my toes. My coffee and eggs taste better because I am here.  
    We plan our day. Whether we will walk to the far side of the island where tourists never go; and there marvel at the ruins left by the last hurricane so many years ago, slowly being rebuilt. Or we might sail out to swim by the reef; try to touch some colorful fishes before they dart away. Or maybe drive past the jungle to the end of the island where the shrine of the Mayan Goddess Ixchel remains standing on the rocky coast.
    Or maybe we stay in town. We can wander the narrow streets and shop at the sidewalk stores. Or watch the spray paint artists in the plaza create visions of other worlds. Or we can string the hammock between two palms and make our home on the beach for the day. From there we can watch the boats carrying day trippers come and go. Late in the day after a swim or two, when the sun grows hot, a waiter serves us five bottled beers in a bucket of ice, two apiece and we share the last.
    I dream of slow sunny days in my island paradise.