I have a confession to make: I am a little afraid to go back to The Bahamas. It’s the land of “wine for breakfast” and “every day’s a holiday,” after all. I was looking through some old photographs this weekend, and I was back in Blue Heaven – I could smell the rust and salt. Having to leave Staniel Cay is the one regret I have trouble putting to rights in my (oh so) sober head. Dee says I would have died if I’d stayed and she’s probably right, but what a way to go: sky and sea so blue, it’s like being inside a prism…
About a year after I left The Bahamas and when I started posting blogs to Facebook, a woman named Marty wrote to me from Staniel. It was one of those Facebook private messages and she said she had been worried about me the whole time I was living in the islands. She could see, even on the “Island of the Lotus Eaters“, that I was in trouble with alcohol. I give her credit for not approaching me like the Jehovah’s Witness missionaries who ventured onto my deck, heaven-bent on saving me from myself. I would not have listened. I would have said something mean.
I found out Marty had been sober, and a big proponent of AA for more than 30 years. Imagine the strength of that – living someplace where it is common to see people of all walks, on the public dock at 7 AM with beers in hand. Where the main source of entertainment is drinking and smoking pot (and boating and vacationing and snorkeling and island hopping and golf-carting: all under the influence). Where there are no 12 Step meetings.
Marty’s invited me to come see her. I think I might. Next year: maybe I’ll be ready next year…
