We stayed in a small, albeit air-con cottage that was just a step and a hop away from the shore. I was actually more excited than J, who fell asleep during the 45-minute taxi ride to the resort. I couldn’t wait to kick off my shoes and sink my toes into sand! And oooh the possibilities! What if there were starfish? What if there were sand dollars? Could I do still do the belly float that I do so lazily and so well? Haha.
And indeed there were starfish! Orange, red, and tan ones that come in with the tide, seaweeds that tickle your thighs when you wade in the water, and which, my son pronounced, uggh! There were schools of fish that swam furiously away from us as we splashed into their midst. There was the hot, hot sun turning my son brown as a walnut! There was good food to devour after all that swimming and bumming around under the palm trees. There was the exotic smell of sun block (yes SPF 50 and I still got a bit of a burn). There was a gaggle of college kids noisily tearing up the beach, celebrating the two-day break, same with us.
But surprise, no sunset at the beach, because on that island, the coast is flipped, located on the other side. Not like the usual beaches I visited. To make up for it though, there was a shy, blushingly rosy sunrise the next morning. Dining al fresco (despite having to chase a toddler around with a full spoon) was a balm to the senses. You smell the salt in the breeze and it whets your appetite. We had a balcony view of the horizon, the line that delineated sea and sky fusing, two halves becoming one the longer you gazed. It was a sight that I missed for what has felt like such a long, long time.
Packing up baby and braving an overnight stay proved one more thing to me. Single parent being the case, I know now that I can go anywhere with my son. The two of us are indeed family.
And on that beach, towing J’s floater before me, arms hugging him, feet languidly swirling the waves, the water caressing my belly—I think, hey now, actually, I’m swimming for three.