About That Trip . . . .

So, I'm back from Paradise.

The trip to see Xena was a whirlwind of rushing, packing, waiting, texting, flying, smiling, kissing, laughing, eating, touching, drinking, seeing, loving, relaxing, thinking, planning, driving, crying . . . . . . and peace.

Blessed, blessed peace.

Dear friends, you know how long I've sought that.

So - More about Xena, myself and the trip.

In the last 28 years, I had seen her once. About 9 years ago she showed up at one of my plays, and we spent a bit less than an hour talking about our lives. She had just moved to Miami, and I was married and expecting my 4th child. She went back to Florida, and that was it. I never saw her in the store around the Holidays, as is often the case with other old friends. She was just gone.

Flash forward to Friday morning . . . .

As I'm walking down the Jetway, knowing she will be waiting at the other end, my heart is pounding and the butterflies in my stomach are doing the Riverdance. Was this all in my head? Would there be sparks? Passion? Awkwardness? Would our friendship be intact after physical contact? A million possibilities shouted at me in my head, threatening to drown out the increasing ribaldry the butterflies were producing at the moment. Would I disappoint her? Did I look like hell from the flight? Was my breath fresh? on and on these thoughts were swirling and swirling in my head until I was almost dizzy with them . . . and there she was.

There was no awkward hello, no shy smiles or mindless pleasantries . . . we quite simply fell into each other's arms and engaged in what can only be described as an airport kiss of epic proportions. The buzz of the busy airport and the crowd melted away and we were in this little cocoon of our own making. Everything else just ceased to exist for me. If you've ever seen one of those films where the long separated lovers embrace at the airport or train station or whatever, then you know the scene. It may have lasted 30 or 40 seconds, it may have lasted 20 minutes, I have no idea, I was completely and fully lost in her.

We managed to pull ourselves apart and went hand in hand to retrieve my bag. From there it was breakfast in South Beach with excellent Bloody Marys. After breakfast we took off our shoes and walked along the beach just on the edge of the surf. The rain forced us to cut our stroll short so we went shopping for wine and chocolate, which we then took to our room.

A word about our room.

Thank you HOTWIRE.

Wow. Just a stunning, stunning hotel. For less per night than what our breakfast cost.

I won't bore you (or titillate you) with the details, but the weekend was as perfect as could be hoped. Yes, it rained all weekend - but we didn't plan on leaving the room much anyway. . .

There was a late night room service meal on the balcony, there was a gifted mango fresh off the tree as breakfast in bed, consumed with champagne, there were mojitos by the pool, a perfect dinner at a stellar restaurant, another breakfast in bed with croissants, and coffee, there was a drive to Key Biscayne, and a beautiful couple of hours just watching it rain on the bay while parked on the shore, an incredible Cuban restaurant, . . and then the airport again.

We spent about forty minutes facing each other on a bench, once again oblivious to the world around us as we said our goodbye . . . yes, there was tears . . but it was a nice bookend for the weekend, a bit of symmetry if you will.

Sigh

She will be here in two weeks . . . .