What do you do in those times you find you are at war with yourself? I find exercise and distraction can be a soothing balm. So, as soon as Sonrisa’s anchor has settled in, Andrew and I head to shore to explore town. We find a long stretch of beach with restaurant after restaurant in a row, friendly kitties demanding their toll in shrimp shells from our lunch plates.
We discover a perfectly measured lap pool between Sonrisa and a nearby granite boulder. I begin a daily ritual of sitting in the hammock until I’m too hot to be comfortable, diving in for a swim, and kicking my way through clear water over white sand for at least two, but usually four laps. As I swim, I enjoy watching glints of sunlight shimmer just beneath the surface, soft yellow against blue, playing like swarms of fairy mermaids.
On the closest island, we find soft white sand, colorful seashells, and a cluster of huge granite boulders arranged to frame us into a cozy nook of shallow water. It looked like a perfect place to cut Andrew’s hair until the tide came up and waves caused him to wobble every few seconds or so. His crooked haircut was a disappointment, but I could still see potential. “I think you and Grin should go back to Sonrisa and pack us a cooler. This looks like a great place to watch the sunset.”
“I dub this, The Beer Grotto! Best Damn Beer Grotto of 2018, don’t you think?” I say.
It is Over-tryer who responds, saying “now that’s the spirit!” as she plops down into the sand. She pulls the sunglasses perched atop her head over her eyes, and stretches her legs out in front of her crossed at the ankles. Waves lap just below her waist, water cool and sun warm. The crack and hiss of a beer can popping punctuates Over-Tryer’s overall mood. Ms. Sensitivity curls her legs beneath her and lowers herself into the sand with a root beer we happily acquired on our last provisioning run. There’s no ignoring these two, is there?
“What have you guys done?” I ask.
Over-tryer leans back against a perfect rest of granite rock. “Over-thinker’s lost her damn mind. We had to subdue her.” She says.
“Subdue her? Oh, dear.” I cannot recall a time that Over-thinker has not been squarely at the helm of my life. She may have let Ms. Sensitivity or Over-tryer run roughshod for a few minutes, but Over-thinker is always at the helm. Most the time, I enjoy a good over-think. What will happen now? “We probably need to untie Over-thinker.”
Over-tryer splashes a hand toward Andrew as he paddles around face down in his snorkel, smashing at clams on the bottom of a rock and feeding them to little yellow fish.
“Absolutely, positively, not. If you try to untie her, I’ll subdue you, too.” With that, Over-Tryer slides down and lays flat until the water covers her hair and ears. “It’s not up for discussion.” She says, only her mouth above sea level.
Ms. Sensitivity looks at me, apologetically, but then nods. “It had to be done.”
I dig my toes under a pile of sand built of a million crushed seashells, the weight of which is a pleasant pressure on my joints. Water laps around my waist, prisms of sun and wave create a fish scale pattern of white and light on the sand around me. My beer is cold, and the bubbles tickle my throat in that pleasant way bubbles have of bringing fresh notice to your lips.
“We can’t leave Over-thinker tied up forever.” I say.
“Mmm… I don’t see why not.” Over-tryer says, floating on her back, eyes closed.
Ms. Sensitivity looks at me with wide eyes. “Over-thinker only knows how to live for the future. She can’t seem to enjoy where we are today.”
I sigh. The rib pain that started in Kumai after my slip and fall is flourishing. “All this internal strife gives me a back ache. I’m going to need you guys to figure this out, soon.”