from old havana to varadero we rode, in the back of a 1950's chevy, windows down, hair blowing. white sand, turquoise water and a tide that never changed was just what we were looking for.
we spent hours passing a book of hemingway's short stories back and forth (reading aloud). we walked up the beach and back down the beach, collecting shells, wondering what the boys were doing at home. we slept uninterrupted and watched college football and the world series. (things that do not happen frequently at home)
[another snippet from my journal]
i've tried again, while lying belly down on yesterday's towel, now crusted with salt (from the sea and my body) to come up with beautiful words, but, they will not come. i thinks that's par for my course - to take life as it comes, quick and dirty - to process and move on. that's not to say that i don't appreciate beauty, but, that i take it in, in the moment and promptly move on.
...
being with mikey in a place that's virtually unreachable and inaccessible has been far better than a block of pure gold, i'm sure. we've walked up and down, miles and miles, on a beach with a tide that never rises. talking of what's next for us. talking of what's been for us.
[another snippet from my journal]
i've tried again, while lying belly down on yesterday's towel, now crusted with salt (from the sea and my body) to come up with beautiful words, but, they will not come. i thinks that's par for my course - to take life as it comes, quick and dirty - to process and move on. that's not to say that i don't appreciate beauty, but, that i take it in, in the moment and promptly move on.
...
being with mikey in a place that's virtually unreachable and inaccessible has been far better than a block of pure gold, i'm sure. we've walked up and down, miles and miles, on a beach with a tide that never rises. talking of what's next for us. talking of what's been for us.
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