Glimpse of A Future That Isn't

I’m not much of a beach person.  Unless you’re talking Bali, they’re a bit too unadventurous and expected for my taste. Besides, I’m vain about my skin and wiping sticky chemicals all over my body every hour or two, while hiding out under an umbrella all day rather takes the fun out of it.

 But my ex-husband is, and more importantly, so was our son.  July 2005 we split the difference and went to Belize—beach action AND Mayan ruins, cave tubing and multi-culti locals.  To seal the deal, three frequent flier tickets were miraculously available on Continental.

After staying inland at an eco-resort, hiking, canoeing and tubing for a few days, we headed to the beach, Placentia specifically.  Overall my ex and I were underwhelmed—romping over deserted beaches in Thailand and Malaysia does that to you. 

But Evan loved every minute of it, including the day we took the scuba boat out to a local cay to go snorkeling.

My ex and I took turns going out with the group into the depressingly murky water, while the other went exploring the cay with our son. 

We were pretty far out on the ocean—it’d been a 45-minute boat ride and you couldn’t see the mainland.  I saw why cays were ‘cays’ and not ‘islands’ though—you could walk the width in about 10 seconds and the length in maybe 6 or 7 minutes. 

This particular cay had a low point, a channel cutting right across the middle.  Neither beach nor ocean exactly, more like shallow river, Evan and I headed over almost at once.  It wasn’t far but was trickier walking than expected, as we picked our way over the driftwood, logs and litter washed up from the mainland.  Most of the group didn’t make the effort.

Picturesque, yes—as long as you didn’t look too closely at the soda bottles and cigarette packs washed ashore.

We reached the channel, walked in and I plopped down in the water.  Sitting on the sand and rocks, the slow, warm current barely skimmed my hips, so I wasn’t worried about Evan walking around and exploring. 

I’d taken his glasses off earlier and put on his prescription swim goggles.  He also had his water shoes on, so the rocks weren’t an issue.  I took out the overpriced, waterproof camera I bought at the hotel and started snapping pictures, watching the wind whip through his hair and palm trees sway behind him.

We didn’t have much time alone anymore since I’d gone back to work two years before.  Most time together was also with my husband, family or friends, so it was a rare treat to have my gorgeous boy all to myself.

Inappropriately enough, when seeing this picture later I always thought to myself, with a mother’s pride, ‘damn he’s sexy.’ 

Only five years old, but I swear I saw the man in him, the adult I was sure he would one day become, that day in Belize.