I have a secret island that I visit every year, surrounded by a bevy of women who teach me about who I am. We do very little but feel the warmth of the sun and stare at the turquoise blue water; our biggest activity is deciding where to eat next. In the midst of all that laziness (and eating), we talk and we listen and we cheer and we marvel and we laugh and we laugh and we laugh and we laugh. And then we laugh. And then after that we laugh. And then we have a drink. The kind that requires two hands.
When our lazy bodies require food, we get up off of our beach chairs and we stroll along the cobblestone streets while street vendors call out "Hey, Charlie Angel!" or "Ohhh, you ladies from Hollywood?" And we say yes............yes, we are from Hollywood.
But it's funny how all the revelry (and the laziness) reveals our stripped-down selves. How our realness seeps through our pores and gets reflected back at us through the prism of this bevy of women. "Don't live in limbo," one of these women says to me as we hug goodbye at the airport. Even though I tried to be factual and objective, I still came off as the girl who wants to move back to Minneapolis. And this nugget she gives me is like giving me permission to live here - in my new home away from home. Trying to enjoy New Hampshire does not mean I'm cheating on Minneapolis.
So I put that in my suitcase with the sand and the sunshine and the turquoise blue water - each year a part of that island comes home with me. The part that says life is good.........so go home and enjoy it.