I have just returned from 6 days in Cayman with 10 fabulous people. I have known all of them for 30 years. I feel really lucky to be in this group. On our last night, we were on a pier at a wonderful restaurant with exquisite food, under a truly magical full moon, laughing, toasting and crying and making big noise. I glanced around and I saw that look we often get when we aren’t getting the horrified one. Several tables of silent people were looking over to us with envy, smiling. Not everyone has friendships like this.
The trip was perfect. Each moment was better than the next. There was lots to do and nothing to do. No books were read. Sleep was at a minimum. Every conversation was to be envied. Several times I fell off my chair laughing. At least once I made the universal sign for I need oxygen. I am pretty sure there were noise complaints. Every early evening we had potent mojitos on the beach watching spectacular sunsets. Every late night was finished off with an unabashed tearing off of the clothing — not at the water’s edge with shyness, but from the pool patio with a naked run — and a skinny dip under a brilliant moon that lit us up like Times Square. This was a very nice hotel. There goes the neighbourhood.
I learn so much from these women. I feel their support and love in everything I do. I love their company, their humour, their wisdom, their families, their choices, their values.
Only once or twice I surprised myself remembering that, like that old Sesame Street song, “One of these things doesn’t belong” and it is me.
I am the only unmarried one.
Only once or twice they asked me to sleep with a beautiful black man down there so I could report back. As much as I would do anything for them I wasn’t going to take one for the team.
Only once or twice someone said, “Is this something we could tell our husbands?” And I said, “Nope, I won’t be telling mine.”
Only once or twice someone said, “Next trip we should bring husbands.”
All in all, a perfect trip.
All in all, a very good ratio of failed to not failed.
All in all, such a fabulous feeling of belonging.
(Tomorrow I will tell you about the hardest thing I did while away- and it wasn’t the beautiful black man.)