Nest Egg

a view of the island of tortolia, british virgin islands

Photo: silvervoyager

 

It was the view that caught his heart when they’d first visited Tortola. The twins had just turned ten. He’d gotten a miserable case of traveler’s diarrhea and spent two days cocooned inside Aunt Essie’s cottage while everyone else was at the beach. He’d initially felt sorry for himself, but then the quietude enveloped him, and he found himself cherishing the time away from chit-chatter and the demands of the children, love them though he did.

He’d recovered sufficiently by the third day, and the shore was fabulous. Still a piece of him remained on the cottage’s porch, gazing into the horizon, sipping bland tea, and feeling a calm he hadn’t known possible.

They’d visited several more times over the years and when Aunt Essie died, she left him the cottage to sell, “for a nest-egg.”

The boys were in college. Bernice had moved on. He decided to move in.

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: British Virgin Islands

 

22 thoughts on “Nest Egg

  1. ื›ืœ ื›ืš ื”ืจื‘ื” ื ืืžืจ ื‘ื›ืœ ื›ืš ืžืขื˜ ืฉื•ืจื•ืช ื›ืœ ื”ื›ื‘ื•ื“ !!!!

    โ€ซ

    Liked by 2 people

    • Hi Rochelle, the beach has that effect on me, too. I get an instant relaxation response on the beach, with the breath of the ocean regulating everything inside myself. It is quite profoundly lovely.
      Yeah, Bernice moved on, but it does sound like at least he’d made his peace or even finds it liberating. Glad you liked this!
      Off I go to check your entry!
      Na’ama

      Liked by 2 people

Feedback welcome! Please leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s