“What you’ve done becomes the judge of what you’re going to do - especially in other people’s minds. When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don’t have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road.”
- William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways
It’s my last night in the Seychelles and I feel impulsive as I reach for his arm while we stroll down the abandoned beach of Cousin Island under the shimmering lights of endless stars. Thousands of miles from home, we drink and flirt with dawn, my life back home in the States always on the periphery of my mind somehow. Sunrise usually finds us sobering up and dozing off in a quiet, still ocean-side hammock, while the chatter of birds and ocean waves crashing onto the beach continue on just a water’s width away. But after tonight, I won’t be back here, at least not in the same way.
“This is what we’re going to do,” I tell him as we continue strolling down the beach, our footsteps embedded in the sand, glistening under the moonlit sky. “We are going to grab our flashlights, sleeping bags, mosquito nets and hike up to the peak and spend the night under the bare naked stars.” Experiencing nature in its truest form.
It always surprises me when I hear the cry of the shearwaters from their hidden nocturnal nests. It used to scare me, but now it is a welcome, almost comforting sound that signifies everything that I have grown to love about this island and the people and the memories I’ll always have. As we continue hiking along the path we make for ourselves, our flashlights flashing just a foot ahead of our path, I can’t help but recognize the overwhelming sense of sadness that sinks into me. Sadness over the fact that tomorrow I will be leaving this place that has become my home in every sense of the word.
He pulls me my hand as we head into the woods away from the coastline where the glisten of the stars can’t guide us and we have to rely solely on our flashlights. It is a warm evening with the occasional cool breeze. Steadily, the two of us make our way along the dirt path. I can tell we are making our way up the hill. We are having a full-fledged conversation, but I know that it’s the kind we’ll forget the second there’s a pause. Each step is heavy, heavy like our feelings, and my feet land in thuds against the bare earth.
Maybe what I’ve loved most about being thousands of miles away from home on an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean is that a new environment with new people offers a clarity impossible to attain when close to the familiar. I feel like the truest form of myself when removed from my friends, family, and the societal/cultural expectations that has in a way hijacked my identity and dreams. Leaving is dreaming of life without those expectations could be like: impulsive, unconventional, different. Returning is a reminder of what I’m giving up on the road less taken: a cushy salary and guaranteed success. All you have to do is follow the plan.
IN THE morning, I wake to the warm ocean breeze blowing against my body. Beside me, he sighs deep as my movements stir him from his slumber. The sun has yet to rise, still sharing the sky with the moon. I yawn and drag him out of his sleeping bag for the sunrise and breakfast. Plain white bread with cheese, sweet and sour sauce and fig jam while gazing off into the sky tinged with various shades of pink and orange- it is possibly the most satisfying meal I’ve had in the Seychelles yet. I know that there’s no one else I’d rather share it with.
“This Island is beautiful,” he comments wistfully as we make our way down to the beach. There is a tinge of regret in his voice, perhaps because we both know the flight back home is too long for either of us to come back here very often. But for now, we revel in its charms. It feels like the island is just waking up, and I am pleased by the subdued activity. I take in the grand Pisonia trees, the Casurina seeds decorating the dirt path , the quiet, and I wonder when I was last somewhere that felt as peaceful, that felt as much like a home as a place could thousands of miles from home.
“This place is beautiful,” I tell him in agreement.
I pause a beat and turn my head to him. “Let’s never come back.”
He looks me right in the eye and grins. His skin, tanned and dark, is glowing against the sun.
“Never,” he says.
Welcome back, 1shot!! muahhhh
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