The Stuff of Dreams

So we’re all good and burnt.  Chris included. Actually Chris burned on the plane on the way down from the reflection off the wing of the plane. He’s Irish. I’m burned to the point that if a sheet looks at me the wrong way I get a crease. Yes- we haven’t been on vacation in a long time- but if Chris tries to brush up against me sideways- I scream.  He came in for a kiss last night and I near hyperventilated. EVERYTHING. HURTS. AND. IM. DYING.  

We’ve fallen into a nice “morning at the beach, afternoon at our pools” situation.  We do Buffet for breakfest and Nicole and Gary get room service. Then buffet on the beach for lunch- homemade hamburgers on the grill- lots of other bits and pieces. 

We’ve noticed that there is a flamingo (or as Gary calls him- a penguin) that comes to the beach buffet whenever there is live music so he can Dance. No joke- he bops his head and lifts his legs up and down. He lets us get super close- we could reach out and touch him ! And then at the end of the day he slowly walks back to a pond right by our room to be with his girlfriend. We follow him and he lets us walk with him. We consider ourselves flamingo/penguin whisperers…. But then after following him and stalking him for days we realize he’s actually a people whisperer. 

We spend time trying to get through the crazy amounts of bathing suits we brought. I brought 11. Not sure how many Nicole brought- 2? 3? 400? but at this point we’re doing morning and afternoon suit changes to get them all in.  There was a sale at the suit place and we stalked up- it’s hard to find suits when your this short and …..buoyant.  So I bought everything that fit. If I’m going to feel short and portly I’m going to do it with a $50 bathing suit. Or 11 of them or whatever. It’s hard to be this short! we almost get kneed in the face by every woman here just from meeting them around a corner too fast- all impossibly tall- our faces being at perfect accidental assault height. So yeah. We bought ALL the suits. Comfort suits. 

But you know what? We deserve it….we’ll, She deserves it. 

This trip is the dream of a dying woman. Dramatic? Yes. But somewhat true. 

When Nicole had her brain surgery all those years ago- my uncle asked her what she wanted the most after her surgery. We didn’t know how she would fair through it. Didn’t know if any of her dreams would come true. If she’d be with us, or partly with us. And what did she say? She said she didn’t want a lot. She hadn’t traveled yet – it was a dream she worked to make come true when things turned out okay. But at that time- my 27yr old 70 lb bald sickly fading away sister hadn’t realized a lot of her dreams yet. What she landed on, with tears in her eyes- was she wanted to be 50- on a beach- happy and healthy.  We all smiled for her. Broken hearted at how unlikely that was given the current situation. 

The day we left for Punta Canna was the last day of her 50th year. 

The last hours to fulfill that dream. Damn didn’t covid try to ruin it. 

But there we were. On a beach. With hours left to fulfill a former dying woman’s dream.  Not sure she could have dreamed a life This good.  Or Gary. Certainly not Chris. The muppets. Or her good health. Or a lot of things. 

Tears. 

Smiles. 

Check. 

She turns 51 on our second day here. 

Boom. 

We do what we always do and try to pretend we’re athletic on this trip. We, because we’re Canadian- brought washer toss to play on the beach. We find the perfect little piece of level sand, 4 coconut rum drinks, and commit to the whole thing,  stares included.  Apparently we should have worn the bathing suits that said- “no. You can’t play”.  Because a LOT of very tanned very tipsy tourists try to play with us- each giving us looks like they MIGHT be the chosen one who we recruit for just one washer throw. Nope. We’re excited to be around people for the first time in a while- but also – EEEW. PEOPLE. We gather a few security guards who I’m sure are betting on our game – mostly on wether Nicole and I will have bikini top accidents.   It’s becoming a close game when it is revealed to Chris that Gary and I had a pool race earlier where I won- and Gary had bet me 3 washer toss points. Boom.  So Nicole and I win and Chris says that gary has the carry the metal washers INSIDE his body on the way home.  Imagine that security check. Gary sitting in the bin going through the X-ray machine. 

“Sir can you explain this? Also- what is meowing in your bag?” 

We also m play ping pong. Not sure why but these resorts always have ping pong. And it’s really the only sport we feel qualified for aside from washertoss- and calling either of those a sport is a stretch I understand. We like to do it up. Full court ping pong style. As in balls everywhere. Drinks spilled. Lots of tennis grunting….  And that’s just Chris and Gary. Nicole may have survived a brain tumor, but she has the hand -eye of a blind mouse. We make it to 2 points each and we’re done.  Mostly because we can’t find any of the balls. 

Chris and I have been relatively boring on this trip. We usually have a story or two-but we’ve been pretty steady. Only thing that gets a good laugh is when Chris screams like a girl every time the pool guy comes through the bushes to net clean the pool-all field of dreams style. Real quiet and stealth like- children of the corn- pops  in while Chris is sleeping every afternoon and scares the Buffett outa him.  It’s entertaining me so even when I see him coming I don’t say a word. 

But Nicole and Gary are having quite an adventure. First Gary discovers that there are cats on the premises. As in – the cats from Greece and China and India and blah blah blah put in the KT (the Kitty Times) news letter that their leader would be visiting the island this week.  So they arrived ahead of him with their young and the most dead of their best dead mouses- for blessing. 

So everyday he orders them room service breakfast. The whitest of the kittens  he calls Chris. I know this because Nicole asks me one day why Gary is smuggling Chris bacon. I give her the “time to switch  to water” look…what?!? Why would Chris have Gary smuggle him bacon? She questions Gary, because when she asked him where he was going this morning with a handful of bacon he said “to bring Chris his breakfast”- like that makes perfect sense. that’s how we now know the white cat is named Chris. 

One afternoon They get locked out of their room by the maid while they are at their pool . Having to survive on pool water and beer while trying not to sissle to death. So through the bushes they go and around- lots of hand signals to the non English speaking maid to explain why they are dipping and trying to break into a random room – Gary with 14 white kitties following him. 

Then one afternoon Nicole and Gary say they can’t meet us for the usual mid afternoon drinks. On account of a “bird situation”. I quickly try to change the subject- this seems personal….. but I’m forwarded a pic. Of a bird on the deck. Surrounded by pillows. And Gary standing guard. And a hungry cat named Chris staring at said bird. 

Seems the bird banged into their glass doors and bounced off – unable to fly.  And then the cats arrived – assumIng Gary- the Meowsiah- means to feed all the islands cats with the bird, loaves and fishes style.  So he of course had to step in and protect the bird- creating an impenetrable wall (4 pillows and a pile bacon) around the bird. They were not allowed to leave the room until the bird had a nap, a nip of Caribbean rum, talked to Gary about his injury’s and early childhood, and flew away. 

Lots of drinks and meals later we arrived at the covid test part of our stay.  Us Canadians have to be PCR tested 2 days before leaving the resort and have the results in hand to board the plane home. It’s not the most organized of situations- but it’s doable. We had to down load an app- and fill out information for each of us (all doable on one persons app) including address, passport numbers, date of birth (which was a roll-a-dex style indicator for the year. Picture me making a huge deal of doing Gary’s year of birth- pretending I’m spinning the wheel on the price is right. It takes a while).  We get tested and then head to the beach. Pretty easy and seamless. Chris was very nervous about his first covid test- but it was easy peesy. Nothing like the Canadian tests- no sore throat or watery eyes. 

The tests come back 48 hours later – all negative dispute my hopes for a false positive that would keep us here longer. 

We do the grill and French restaurants for our final nights. Trying to soak up all the happy we can. 

The trip back is hard. And I’m not sure why. Maybe just our inexperience over the past 2 years- we’re out of practice. Or the covid restrictions making it seem like we don’t know what we’re doing? But it’s not super fun. – now looking back from home it was FINE- but at the time there was a level of unorganized that felt scary. But it WAS organized to some extent. Just didn’t feel like it at the time. I get randomly selected for a PCR test – no one else in my party does. So there are some tense moments while they are all in their way to the gate and I’m back at the testing site. 

But we all eventually get on the flight. A&W in hand – savaging into it the minute we are able once in the air. Home In our beds by 2 am. 

It was epic to get back at it and I’m already planning my next quick get away for February. I feel more human then I have in a long time. More present and capable. Less stressed. Ready to take it all on again. 

We got this. I keep trying to tell myself that’s true. That the lack of socialization won’t effect us. That we’ll pick right back where we left off. And I hope that’s true. All I can say is do it soon. If you feel safe enough- do it. Get back on that horse. It’s time. You won’t know how badly you need it until you go. And you’re crying on a beach at 6 am, because you’re so happy. 

Muppets out. Until May…….