Though the drapes are heavy and a towel hangs over the window in the door, the sunlight fills the tiny studio. One eye cracks open and I smile. Then I do something that I never do. I just lay in bed.
Thinking.
Wishing.
I lay there for an hour before jumping up and ripping the curtains to the sliding glass doors open. Then I do this stumbling dance opening every window and the brilliance of the sun floods the room.
I wobble outside making my way towards the ocean, wade in to my knees and fall over. The Kingdom has come on earth as it is in heaven. The sea kisses me awake. I stand and survey the day. The sky is such a deep blue that a full moon and the sun dance with one another on opposite ends of the heavens. The Palm trees dance in the trade winds which are light.
Making my way back to the studio I pour a cup of coffee, grab the computer and sit on the tiny porch with the heavy wooden table. Before I take the first sip, Victor flies up in a golf card and jumps out before it stops. Victor is over six feet tall, one of the sweetest security guards that I’ve ever met and is the father of my friend Carlos who oversees the restaurant here.
We embrace and he sits across from me speaking in his Caribbean lilt. “Did you see the picture of me on the Internet”
I tell him that I have not and he looks at my Netbook wanting me to find it. So I search and cannot. His face falls.
“My son Carlos will find it for us,” he tells me and I smile.
“I must tell you the news my friend,” he says standing up. “I am employee of the year! Two plane tickets to anywhere I want to go. Five nights anywhere I want to stay. And 500 Euros in my pocket!”
Jumping up I hug him. His smile beams across his body.
“OK my friend, I see you tomorrow,” he says jumping back in his golf cart. I am invited to Carlos’ for the family Christmas whatever-it-is-they-do-in-the-Caribbean celebration.
People are strolling by with croissants or baguettes from Le’ Boutique. “Good Morning,” they all pleasantly say. Half I do not know and the other half I do. Ned stops to talk about how good the Wi-Fi is this trip. Cindy stops to see if I need anything from the store. Terry from Oklahoma stops to ask where my UGA flag is.
For years I hung one from my beach chair and the outside of the tiny studio but gave it away and have never gotten around to replacing it.
Martina one of the maids pulls her cart by.
“Oh My God,” she screams in the Caribbean lilt, “Mike! You are here for Christmas!” and she leaves the cart full of cleaning supplies, brooms and mops and hugs me tight.
“Christmas is good,” she concludes and I love Martina as much as I love anybody. I once cooked her lunch and along with Carlos and Verna we all hid out in the studio when they should have been working and just talked and laughed.
She pulls her cart away smiling. I cannot help but smile back.
My celebration of the coming of the Christ-child will consist of a swim to the reef where I will marvel at everything underneath, a beach walk to Orange to wish my friend Oliver Merry Christmas over a fish sandwich, and a day with my feet in the sea. I wonder if the Tiny Dancer is here. I hope so.
Winston calls me from the front desk to tell me that they have found my storage bin. It has my stuff in it; Extra pillows, a wind chime from the past; Snorkel and fins; a radio, coffee filters. The place is suddenly home again.
Maria comes in barking Spanish at me. I am her tenant meaning that she is the maid of this room. She has been trying to teach me Spanish for the past year and has taken the approach of only speaking to me in Spanish until I start making her laugh. She hugs me tells me that she loves it when I am in her section because there isn’t much to clean. So she sits across from me and we talk about what her Christmas will be like.
In many ways this place is an illusion. A lot of hard work goes on behind the scenes to reach this place of island simplicity. Over the years I have come to appreciate and celebrate and love the people who make it all a reality.
They are my friends.
People who make illusions reality always have been.
