Yesterday, as I was walking on a frigid downtown Columbus street, leaning into a biting wind and trying to dodge icy patches and unplowed snow on the sidewalks, I thought of a place we visited in Antigua in December 2012.
I thought of the infinity pool that looked out over a bright blue bay dotted with rugged islands and sailboats. I thought of the sand between my toes at a ratty poolside bar as Kish and I savored some well-prepared pina coladas and visited with other guests. I thought of a catamaran on the beach, its colorful sail flapping in a gentle breeze, of the beautiful stretch of sand and rocks and driftwood a short walk away, and of the tables where Richard, Russell and I played cribbage and drank Caribbean beer.
And I thought of baking sand, blazing sun, oozing suntan lotion and its coconut oil smell, deep shade under a palm frond umbrella on the beach, warm salt water, and hot, sun-dappled pavement and wooden walkways.