The Power of Choice

I was at the bottom of the well.
Crying.
I was stuck. It had been going on for too long;  so I came to a decision.
I Chose to leave those tears behind,  pick myself up and fly away.
South. Where the energies are warm and strong.

I Chose Travel, rather than Drowning.

"Who did you go with?"
"Nobody... just me."
"Ohhhh, you're brave."
"No, I"m not."

I Chose to travel alone, rather than wait for somebody, anybody to go with me.
I Chose my own time.
I Chose my vacation, and went to Sint Maarten, the Dutch side of the island (the other side is French).

It did me the world of good.

I listened to the timeless rhythm of  ocean waves; their gentle voices reaching out to soothe my soul.

I allowed the softness of sweet ocean air to caress my skin; its tenderness a balm for raw, sore nerves.

I waited expectantly every morning for the peachy-golden glow of  a Caribbean sun to wake up the earth. As the softness of first light transformed into the passion of a strong and fiery yellow sun, I relaxed into that heat; the warmth spreading throughout my body, awakening a faint stirring of joy. A feeling I thought had been lost, buried, forgotten; a subtle shimmering from somewhere deep within my being.

"Braid your hair, Miss?"
I blinked. Sat up in my chair. Where had she come from? Wasn't it rather early to be working the beach?
I looked around. There were more people here now. Had I fallen asleep? I looked at my watch. It had stopped.

The brightly clad, plumpish Island woman looked at me curiously. She was waiting for my answer.
"No thanks," I started to say, sinking back into my beach chair. Then I changed my mind. And sat back up.
"Yes, I'd like my hair braided. Let's do it!"
"Welcome to Sint Maarten!" she sang with a friendly smile and a swish of her skirts. She plunked herself down, reached into her bag and brought out a multitude of coloured beads for me to Choose.

I Chose pink and white and blue beads.
I Chose to lighten up and have fun.
I Chose to open up and breathe.
I Chose Life.