Delray Beach, April 2021

I am a homebody. I love and dedicate myself to activities and hobbies that I can do from home. For as far back as I can remember, I have always been content to immerse myself in a book or a crossword puzzle, and when I hear my siblings and numerous cousins speak of the good times of our childhood, I often wonder why I have no memories of these events.

The explanation is quite simple: I am an introvert and can only recharge my batteries during quiet times spent in solitude. In addition, my work is very demanding and takes up a lot of my time and energy. When I finally have free time, I spend it reading, sewing, gardening, but more often planning the next trip.

And I cannot recall the many times I had dreamed of the next trip in the past year and of the next time I would board a plane to escape the routine and anxiety that COVID-19 sprung upon us. Although I kept busy during that time, and tried to keep my spirit high, I knew I was fast approaching the time when I could no longer manage the threat to my mental health. By the beginning of spring, I was suffering from a serious case of cabin fever. We were all lucky for an effective vaccine was on the horizon. I made myself the promise that I would be among the first to receive it once I qualified and would also be the first in line boarding a plane two weeks following my second dose.

In late April, I headed to Delray Beach, Florida. Having made my plans in a disjointed manner, which is highly unusual for me, I landed at the Miami International Airport and headed north to Broward County using the Tri-Sate rail line from the airport to Delray. It would have been a lot easier to fly into Fort Lauderdale, but I made the decision to go to Miami before deciding on a final destination, so eager was I to get out of town. A friend had joined me from Miami and we arrived on time to check in at our hotel in the early evening when the sun was just beginning its descent onto the ocean.

The hotel we selected was right on the beach and our suite was facing the wide expanse of the ocean. I was in my element. With my luggage secured in the room, I rushed to the beach just to feel the warm sand go through my toes, feel the water temperature and smell the iodine in the air. My lungs were thanking me! What a delirious feeling!

Whenever I am near the ocean, childhood memories come rushing; the Sunday picnics with the bountiful and spicy grilled seafood to assuage our hunger, fresh coconut water to keep us hydrated in the hot Caribbean sun, our skin all shriveled and our lips all blue and shivering for spending hours riding the waves of the ocean. These memories, as expected, rushed in, colliding with the stresses, losses and traumas of the past months for an emotional response I was not expecting. In the middle of this chaos, however, the energy of life was still pulsing through carrying with it the ability to still experience the joy of the present moment.
It is difficult to describe the complex mix of emotions and feelings that flooded while I stood on the shore, where earth and water meet, and felt the weight of everyday life lift off my shoulders.

I set out to walk along the beach, which in Delray is close to 2 miles long. I felt every muscle of my leg contract as I navigated the soft and shifting sands of the beach, and I could not help but feel the gratitude that swelled my heart for being one that was lucky enough to be present on this day. So many no longer were. I sat on the sand for a minute and said a prayer for the departed and those they left behind.

I resumed my walk. On the day of our arrival in Delray, I logged 12.5 miles walking the beach and the town. For the duration of our stay, we would log at least seven to eight miles every day late in the evenings to escape the day’s scorching heat. What I remember best, however, was the one day spent entirely in the water on a beautiful sunny day when the waters were warm, clear and inviting, followed closely by a day of R & R laying on a recliner on the beach under a tent reading and dozing off every few pages.

There was not much else, but this was plenty. That was all I needed: to spend these five days on the shore, where earth and water meet, relaxing, reading, and mostly daydreaming.

I knew there would be more time like this. Time spent just being and daydreaming of the next adventure.

Have a Joyful Sunday.