The battered black suitcase had been taking up space on the bedroom floor since my husband and I returned from vacation two weeks ago. Tired of kicking, tripping and stepping over it, I decided yesterday to finally unpack the thing and return it to its rightful place in the attic. In so doing, I was rewarded with a sweet surprise. There at the bottom of the luggage, underneath some plastic bags, a pair of flip-flops and a stack of maps, was a small handful of sugary white sand I’d unwittingly imported from the pristine shores of Grand Cayman.
With sand in hand, I could practically smell the bougainvillea, taste the rum punch and feel the relentless rays we’d soaked up in July. Those crystals gave me the reminder I needed that, although my vacation (from work, from parenting, from Real Life) had ended, Cayman would continue on. The idyllic island will wait – tucked in the western end of the British West Indies, a piece of paradise on Earth – until the next vacation comes around. Until then, I’ll hang on to my sandy little souvenir.
God bless Cayman!
Bienvenidos and welcome to the blog of Manda Newlin, professional writer/copyeditor, amateur pop-culture quipper and perennial observer. I’m nuts about words, grammar, bookstores, foreign accents, DVR and iTunes. I enjoy one-on-one conversations, eavesdropping in coffee shops, learning other peoples’ life stories and discovering universal truths. Here’s what I know ….