The balmy tropical breeze caresses my face like a skilled lovers hand. The white sand is like silk that nestles safely between my toes. The sky is that mystical Mediterranean blue that Club Med so beautifully captures on its titillating vacation brochures. And the sound of the waves beating down on the shore is like a symphony capturing the rythmic sound of the waves. It couldn't be more perfect. Nor could it have come at such a price.
Most of my life was well planned out from an early age. College, city living upon graduation, and a successful career came together like honey and bees--smooth and sweet. I even entertained the thought of marriage and children despite my profound adamancy to keep my freedom and independence from all things permanent. Fast forward a few years, and I landed a husband, two kids, and a house with a picket fence. It was perfect. Being a mother was more than anything I could have ever imagined. It is still that one thing in life that I can honestly say is the sole reason for my existence. It was the events that followed that took me on a downward spiral that landed me on this island, far away from the U.S. border, and even further from the heartbeats of those I treasure most.
Taking risks, jumping blind, and getting back up before the dust settles has always been key to the exploration of my personal being. Writing has always been personal and safe. Here's to another risk.