I’m sitting on the beach, the sand is burning my toes in the best way possible. I can literally feel the sun burn my shoulders, nothing has ever felt better. I have a pack of fresh fruit I just bought at a nearby market: lunch. To my surprise, it would be one of the best meals I could possibly indulge in. I can hear my name called in the distance, and I turn to see my friends splashing one another in the water, waiting for me to join.
You know the times when everything in life is just good, you know you never want the moment to end, you just feel invincible? That’s been my past week. Our bus rides that are full of chatter, cuddling, laughter, and sleeping. Hotel rooms filled with snacks and unpacking for the short 48 hours we would spend there until we left it for our next location. From 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. we were occupied. Making memories. Enjoying our time. I never want this to end.
As I lift my head up from its burrow in my towel, I am face to face with a raccoon. Is this real life? He and his friends were attempting to break into my friend’s bag and steal any possible food. How were they so sneaky, why were they not even slightly afraid of humans? I let out a screech I thought might scare him and his friends away. I was wrong. They continued digging through the bag, throwing clothes around as if they were mere obstacles in their way. After a stranger assisted me in diverging this pack of rascals, I ran into the water, dunking my head under. This was no Hampton Beach, or that little harbor that UMass Boston seems to hover over. I could see through the water as if it was transparent, not the underlying tone of green seawater I am used to swimming in. I stuck my hand halfway in, halfway out. It was as if there was no difference. I have never seen sand so white.
“Ooo, ooo,” I can hear, as I see monkeys running around, hitting into one another, as they make their way into the trees. Sloths are sleeping on branches, almost hard to see without binoculars. The weather is blindingly sunny, a sizzling 105 degrees out. Sounds like a dream, right? Well, this is my life. At least for the next few days, and then I’m back to the same old day to day grind.
Can you believe that this is just life for some people? This is their normal, every day routine. I envy the people who live this life every day, and they may not even realize what a dream it really is. The locals: shop owners, bartenders, sales associates, bakers and tattoo artists. They have so much at their disposal, at least in an American’s mind, as ironic as that is. We’re supposed to be the one living the American Dream, and yet all I want is to trade lives. Even for a day.