Post # 161
The white sands spread out before us. We were walking hand in hand. The day before was spent exploring a Mayan ruin. This was another day of relaxing, on the nearly deserted beach. We frolicked in the serf and played in the water. What a romantic interlude.
My wife says I’m not romantic. But this seemly proves her wrong. Well, it would have proven her wrong, had we walked on that beach, frolicked in the serf along the white sands.
Many people dream of Europe, the Orient, or large jubilant parties. My romantic dream was the two of us visiting the Yucatan Peninsula.
Life, however, interceded. Life just got in the way.
My vision of me on the beach in my speedo’s would be incomprehensible to the image staring back at me in the mirror today.
At an early age, my wife experienced a traumatic experience that heightens to a fear of water, to a point she won’t even put her face under the shower, let alone frolic in the serf!
Children came into our live’s and although they were and still are the center of our hearts, in our youth, food, clothing, housing were more important than frolicking in the Yucatan serf.
My childhood is long gone, but one thing I have retained. I learned how to imagine. So, I can still imagine my wife and I had walked on the white sands, and frolicked in the serf. And in my imagination, there is no fear of water.
See I can romantic, well, since it’s my imagination, maybe you can’t see it.
Youth has vanished, middle age is gone, walks take on a different character, and they’re not as long.