The last day of vacation is always bittersweet: the Bahamas is beautiful, but home is comfortable (and has dry heat—80% humidity is not awesome).
My flight left late enough that I didn’t have to hurry out of the door at the crack of dawn; I could live the slow rhythm of the islands one last time. And I could run on the beach once more. This time, I got up with the sun for an extra memorable jog.
The beach was empty, the tide was low (which equals good sand running), the sand was smooth, and the seawater gently lapped against the shore, a sort of music that you don’t know you’ve always been missing until you hear it in the still of the morning.
This was one of my favorite moments, here in the calm and solitude with the sea whispering in an ancient voice that somehow I recognized in my bones, a voice that beckons like the sirens of old to cross the water because there’s something amazing…there…just beyond the horizon.