When I was in the Caribbean, I woke up around 7:30 everyday, and immedietely chugged water to ease the hangover caused by my aunt. I love her so. But we do drink when we hang.
Then pee for like, a half an hour
Step out into the kitch, maybe make some tea. Yes, that's my banjo. I played it every night at sunset for an hour or so on this rock a feet feet out into the ocean. We'll get back to that later. Yes, that's my copy of Good Omens. It was great to finally be able to read fiction again, and that book is damn hilarious.
Usually though, I'd skip the tea for now, and step outside, let the sun get the sleep out my eyes. Yes, those are Christmas lights hanging from the trees in the backyard.
Walk to the steps, across the almond tree leaves. The almond tree, in point of fact, is permanently shedding and growing. It'll go orange, drop everything, and regrow green in about a month.
Tea is nice, but this is how I woke up everyday. A quick swim in the ocean. Yes, it was still chilly, but not that bad. And what a way to wake up.
One morning, while swimming, I found this coconut. I named him Wilson. I played catch with him for awhile, in the mornings and afternoons, often making dramatic dives into the water to catch him for the win. If I missed, and he started to float away, I would amuse myself to giggle-snort level by screaming "Wilson! Wilson come back! Wilson!"
I made an attempt at taking pictures of myself. I gave up early on.
I was fascinated by local wildlife, such as the lizards, who were prone to (I shit not) doing pushups if you snuck up on them and watched for awhile
But mostly I loved the local wild dogs, called "potcakes." Even the ones that locals had adopted still maintained a lot of their wild ways. They were very skiddish, often taking days to earn their trust, and still would run off in packs to play, fight, and steal food from construction workers. My aunt's backyard, unsurprisingly, had become their Shangrila, and many of the adopted pups played and slept in her yard all day.
This is Cooper, or Koopa as I called him. He belonged to my aunt, and was one of the sweetest, smartest dogs I'd ever gotten to hang out with. Could traverse coral better than a mountain goat.
That day we went out in the boat, and I was shown a secret entrance to a rich person's house. How Bond is that?
Mostly though, I just stared at the water when I was there. Yar, the ocean, she always calls to me. Seriously though. No lover can put me at ease the way the ocean can. And damn was it purty down there. In the daytime,
And of course, at sunset. That's Turtle Rock, on the horizon.
So at sunset, every night, I'd stand on this rock (not Turtle Rock), about 3'x3', and play the hell outta my banjo and sing at the top of my lungs. I used this huge thick chain I found in the shed as a strap, and I'm sure I looked like an idiot, but it felt so damn good. One night, zee ocean life, it heard my music, and it came out to hang. Seriously, a ray and an octopus came right up to my rock and, I'd like to think, harmonized. How f-in Disney is that? I think I was playing House of the Rising Sun.
At Christmas, my bro went to Florida with his new wife to visit their family. While I was home in Baltimore, which had just been pounded by another snow storm, he sent us pictures of his feet and a cocktail, with the sunset in the background, saying Merry x-mas, How's the weather?
My aunt took this picture and sent it to him with the same message.
