Havana Daydreamin

I ended a nearly perfect weekend napping on the beach of Stone Harbor, New Jersey as the sun traced tan lines around my rings and bikini and the sweet sounds of "A Pirate looks at Forty" and "Castles made of Sand" cleared my mind in a mid-day serenade.

Six of us spent our Friday and Saturday nights sharing stories and laughs over homemade concoctions and occasionally getting lost in our own thoughts while watching smoke escape our mouths and float towards the most starlit sky I'd ever seen.

Saturday, between skipping over puddles and ducking under a leopard print umbrella in a fruitless search for sundresses, the three girls existed in a scene one black-and-white background short of a vintage photograph. When greeted with raindrops upon our beach arrival, we sought shelter under the local lifeguard pavilion/rain escape where we found short red shorts belonging to concerned faces peering through the rain towards the ruthless crashing waves.

Just being at a beach again felt like I was home. My toes flirting with the incoming tide and the lingering grains of sand attached to my now sun kissed skin. It was the perfect little escape from the neon lights and stumbling interns in their LBDs which usually paints a weekend night in the city. On my way to work this morning, my coffee seemed to taste a little better, the sun shined a little brighter and the flowers smelt a little sweeter as I felt a little closer to my new home.

I'll end with a quote I stumbled upon in a book of short stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald :

"All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase -- 'I love you.'"