Age

This post was going to be a long rant about how I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. After a long week battling a sore throat, I succumbed to antibiotics the following 5 days, only to find out on the last day that, alas, the pain and rawness in my throat are back again.

It's in times like these that I reckon how much I need some sand, a Caribbean beach and the soothing nothingness of a blue ocean's horizon. I miss living close to a beach. And no, Coney Island or any other dirty, stinky, filthy New York City beach just doesn't cut it because I actually may end up with a cut up foot if I don't watch every step I take.

No.

I need salty clean and fresh blue water. I need the unrelenting wind that only comes with whirly waves. And no, neither a river nor a lake or needless to say a pond or lagoon can make me happy.

It's why I've never believed the Babalawo who dare to read my Orisha as Osun and not Yemanya. I can't understand how I can be an Oshun if I hate mountains, rivers and lakes so much. Am happiest when I know I have a sea or an ocean where I can rest my weary soul.

Am getting old.

Am pining for my old Puerto Rico days.

And it's making me think about what would be for me a heaven on earth.

The answer is simple : A house, close to a Puerto Rican beach yet with a nice pool for a backyard.