It is shortly before dawn on Cayman Brac. The breeze last night was a wind, and it blew all night, out of the Southeast. Yet half the clouds are high, and the horizon to the east is clear, which is making for a nice pallet of colors for sunrise. High above in the quickly changing black-to-blue is Venus, as a bright morning star. Below at my feet, a hermit crab in an inch long shell marches across the dock's boardwark, then changes his mind and marches back under the bench at my feet.
Ten minutes ago, the Cayman Airways 737 landed, breaking the island's sounds of bird calls, counterpointed by the rumbling of waves breaking over the windward reef that's 75 yards from shore. Twenty minutes from now, the week's visitors will all be onboard and jet will again make its noise to leave, flying to Grand Cayman and taking its passengers one step closer to their homes.
Last night, I finished "The Last Season" by Eric Blehm. A book with the reminder that our time on Earth can end suddenly and at any time, over what could be a normal activity. This past week, the ambulance has come down to the dock for treating scuba divers twice for suspected DCS, plus Pam had a reverse block that resulted in an end to her diving this week while it heals.
Appreciate every day and every sight.
-hh