The Keys to my Diary ~ Fern

Saturday, December 26

I looked up Antigua on my plane ride. It's a little island in the Caribbean. Whose life is this anyway? It seems like I ask myself that a lot when Mac is involved. I was thrilled when our plane pulled to a stop at the little, pink airport. How can you not love a place that has a pink airport?

It was a little nerve-wracking getting off the plane and walking inside. Mac hadn't given me instructions on where to go or how to get there. For a moment, I hoped that he might be there to pick me up. Instead, there was a man standing near the luggage carousel with a sign that read, 'Fern.' I had to assume that meant he was there for me.

He drove way too fast and on the wrong side of the road. Okay, that sounded like a rude American. He drove on the left side, which is apparently customary on this island, but it's not at all what I'm used to. The traffic circles really threw me for a loop. We careened through traffic and down narrow roads, making our way across the island to a dock with several small boats. Then he carried my luggage down and loaded it on a boat before reaching a hand out to help me climb aboard.

He had barely spoken to me, so it felt weird (and possibly unsafe) to just go with him, but at that point I didn't see many other options. I just prayed that Mac had actually sent him. Against my better judgment, I stepped onto the boat and sat down. My head was thrown back when the man pulled away from the dock at full throttle.

Turns out, I'm glad I went against my gut and went with him. He beached the boat on a tiny island where Mac was standing out on the shore to greet me. Talk about a sight for sore eyes. That man is a vision of perfection. I splashed through the shallow water and launched myself into his open arms.

It was all I could do to let him go long enough for him to take my luggage and lead me to our hut. That's right, I am living (this week) in a tropical, thatched-roof hut that sits out over the water. If I peek between the slats of the wood floor, I can actually see the ocean sweeping back and forth underneath us. It is a secluded tropical paradise that looks like a picture in a travel magazine, and I can't believe I'm here.

As soon as Mac closed the door behind us, we lunged for each other. We both chuckled at our urgency as we fought to get our clothes off and our bodies connected. We have been making love on-and-off for hours. He's sleeping now, and I'm relaxing in the hammock on our front porch, absorbing the sea breeze and breathtaking view as I write in my diary. This is definitely the most beautiful location from which I have ever updated my journal. I'm pretty sure this is what ridiculously happy feels like.

*** Share what you think! Please VOTE / COMMENT / FOLLOW. Thank you! ***