It’s low tide as I pull into the dusty parking lot of Playa Bandera. There is a man in a beach chair with his sombrero pulled down over his eyes, sleeping in the mid day sun. Business is slow, but that seems to be par for the course in this desolate area I’ve stumbled upon.
A few locals are enjoying drinks near the man, but the rest of the beach is wide open and empty. I wander over to the far side, where there are only sea gulls and strange ocean carcasses left to dry rot in the endless sun.
The water is refreshingly cool as I walk in the never ending paradise. I stumble upon the occasional sea creature, but they are scared by my shadow and dart off quickly.
The bread crumbs that remain in my backpack become a feast for the local birds. They entertain as I lazily sit in the soft sand and watch them squawk and scurry for a morsel.
The stillness has me hypnotized as the wind softly blows.
A shell is cracked open in a heart shape, and the beauty of this one image causes a tear to roll down my sun kissed cheek. They say it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
Perhaps.
To me, every hour of the day is an unspeakably perfect miracle.
