We’re in the midst of Guam’s dry season, but it is most certainly not Phoenix or Arabian desert dry. Like everyone else, I have my list of talents, but the one I excel at is sitting outside sipping and staring. The rain, which hasn’t gotten the “dry” memo, tends to enjoy keeping me company most mornings. This morning it snuck up on me like a child holding back giggles attempting to startle me, but then full on laughter when realizing the gig is up; I know it’s there. It tags me and then darts off to taunt others.
I hear it wake the starlings (oh my goodness we have birds! Something the island almost lost thanks to the hungry brown snake), and then the roosters (with their loud sore-throated look-at-me I’m awake!) and their hens squawking to shut the eff up. Like any child, it can’t have its moment without a mess, so our morning song includes the spillage from our balcony and roof drains flushing the geckos out of their beds. Later in the day the rain might decide to throw a temper tantrum and douse us while we’re enjoying the island’s beaches and jungles. But, it’s all good because we know that when there’s rain, there will almost always be the birth of a rainbow.
Ta da! There she is showing off her colors.
While the dry season, thankfully, does not end the rain, it does bring on the trade winds. These are adolescents who wake later in the day and amaze us with their coolness and then frustrate us with their unruliness. They do what they like, when they like, regardless of what we do to try to prepare for them.
So, we live our days alongside the ebb and flow of celestial children.
It is a beautiful existence. It is an almost perfect life, but as magnificent and magical as all that I am blessed to embrace, it does not replace the love of being with my own. I am lucky to have the internet and an income and vacation days that allow me to buy flights home. That said living so far away has its cost: I miss being physically present for my own children’s magic.
I am so incredibly proud and thrilled to announce that my daughter has given birth to her daughter, appropriately named Isla. Originally I wasn’t going to see her until this summer, but I booked a last-minute flight yesterday. In just a few blinks I’ll be in the midst of all the chaos little ones bring with them, and then, too quickly, I’ll be gone again.
Torin is amazed to now have a sister to hold!
Because my working days include travel and glimpses into lives I fantasized about in my youth, my retired life will focus on being back with family, where I’ll enjoy the bruises, the tears, the sheer joy of children’s laughter. In between the play and fights, I will introduce my grandchildren to the places I’ve visited and lived. I will, hopefully, pass on the desire to know the world and cherish all that it has to offer. May they too spend their years marveling at the many gifts life gives us.
However, I am not yet in the retired world (and won’t be for a few years), so until then I am grateful that I can share my bits of wonder with all of you.