MountainMornings

One thing we can always be sure of is change. Nothing remains static; our weather is changing, our relationships change, even our cells are changing. Some of us age with grace as arthritis slips into our joints. Some of us fight a losing battle, changing hair color and going under the knife. 

But one thing we never want to change is our adaptability, our resilience. Sure, a horse may throw you into a ditch or a surgeon may screw up, but how do we recover? Throwing in a towel, giving up on life isn’t the way I was raised. The Flapper said she would dance on her surgeons graves – and she pretty much did. 

Bob’s dream during his recovery last Fall was to return to this island. To taste the French food, to drive its perilous hills, to relax into its velvety beach. And for the most part it hasn’t changed at all. 

Sure the small Mini Mokes, the original smart cars, are gone. Cocut the parrot met his death on one of the big SUV replacement’s windshield. The super Marche U – a giant grocery compared to its original Match – is open now midday, very few stores close for lunch and a siesta. And technology is too much with us. There is French TV and WiFi. 

We knew something was wrong when Nikki Beach opened. Maybe now this little piece of paradise has jumped the shark? 

Because now you must pay for public parking. Because the second “big” grocery store has closed and is becoming a “technology” store. Because Ellen and the Kardashians have discovered it? 

But the landscape cannot change, its beauty is eternal like the ocean. I asked Bob if it might sink back into the sea eventually like Miami. He said no, the elevation here is good. 

So we read with abandon. We ignore the TV, rarely check emails. We imagine we are still young, the way we were when we first washed up on these shores. Marriage always has an ebb tide and flow. And soon our children and their children will join us. And we will forgive all the change and delight in their laughter. Because this is what happiness looks like.