Life got too much so I peaced out and went fishing for a while. I feel like you’d appreciate my logic. Mackarel is delicious, just to let you know. Cod is nice as well.
Was antsy to get home a few days ago but when I went to do anything about it, I ended up booking a ticket (one way) to Mexico and deciding to let the cards fall where they may. I miss Frank something awful but I feel like you and he will understand. I’m going on another walkabout. I’ll come back better and the person I and you and he like me to be.
The ocean is lovely and fog and rain and waves and storms and humidity can’t beat me. I grow stronger.
I had squash last night and thought of you and your lovely garden and your lovely Elisa (best cook in the world) and I smiled in my heart. I miss you, buddy, but I’m doing it. I’m going to keep on.
I wish you could write back, I wish I could hear your voice, but is it crazy that I do hear your voice and know what you would likely write and that is enough for me these days? I think I’m coming to terms.
Until the day,
Your Lins, avid fisherperson and wandering soul
Ah, the beloved day off. Time away from the hustle and bustle, the quickness and slowness, the grind.
August. The tourist season. Doubles and triples every day.
Then comes that one sacred day a week. That chance to escape (though we’re literally trapped on an island) and the chance to be free.
I have a few spots I escape to. The tourists consider my presence part of the landscape. I’m ok with that. For this day and this time only I am not a guide. Nope. I will answer no questions. I will give no history lessons. I won’t direct to the nearest restroom. I offer no facts about the flora and fauna except ‘No, don’t go over there! There is some poison ivy… eh, they’ll figure it out…’
It is my time for peace and quiet. I remember the silence when I first arrived on the island and I yearn for it again. I look longingly across the rolling ocean and dream of what may be out there, deep underneath. The shipwrecks, the fish, the rocky sea floor nearly 300 feet deep. I hope to see a whale. And a seal. And a cormorant catch a fish.
I see all three.
I pick up my bag, trudge back to the village. My work for the day is done. My mind happily turned down. My ears ignore the voices. It is time to taunt the gulls and ducks by eating a lobster on the beach in front of them.
This morning, on my first cast, I caught a beautiful and delicious looking mackarel. You’d approve of this life I think.
Miss you buddy,
Butterflies and sea birds and moon beams and fairy tales, that’s all she ever thinks about.
Riding with the wind.