The Last Day

On a shuttle to the airport. No air conditioning. I am coated in a thin layer of sweat and sunscreen. Unlike our taxi from the airport, this one at least has working seatbelts. Foreigner is playing on the radio.

I have the worst case of sea legs I have ever had. The ground heaves as I walk, and when I stand, I sway like a tree in a strong breeze. It is so strange to be on land, the stretches of sidewalk and hot pavement, the dirt and stones littered with tiny geckos.

**

In the airport now. It was such a jolt to go from paradise to long security lines and TSA patdowns, Starbucks and bad airport pizza. A teenager coughed on my neck all the way to the terminal. I bought a watercolor of a sea turtle at the airport.

I feel like this vacation has changed me but I can’t quite pin down what is different. I would like to say I’m less anxious, more mindful, or less selfish, but quite honestly I don’t think any of those are true. There’s just something slightly slanted, a little turned around, maybe even off-center. I’d like to be changed. I hope I can carry some remnant of different with me as I return to everyday. Or maybe it will just pass, like the movement of the ground, and as the earth grows still beneath my feet I will get lost in the shuffle of daily life and forget all about it.

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