time doesn’t really exist when you travel.
for the most part, there’s no place you have to be, no one you have to get to, no set time to be anywhere. no staff meetings or coffee dates or appointments. you’d look ridiculous walking around with a day timer or weekly planner.
everything blends together. the day just becomes a series of lingering moments that come one, after the other, after the other…and because you’re not worrying about being 10 minutes late to get to the dentist or if you’re going to have time to see so-and-so two weeks from this thursday, life can be all gathered up into these moments.
today. byron bay.
in the water with me were these little white, almost transparent, fish, only slightly bigger than minnows. i followed their shadows as they flicked and floated through the water. and you’d think, having seen bigger and more beautiful fish, that i wouldn’t be so fascinated. or because i’m not six anymore, that my attention would be on the surfers or the cafe up the beach. but all i wanted to do was to touch them. graze a gill.
i kept pointing them out to harper, my friends little boy who is nearly two, “harper! look at the shish!” (what he calls fish), but i think i was more caught up in it than he was.
touching the fish. that was all that moment was about.
i felt like a little kid in a bathtub. a really, really big bathtub.
i had no idea what time it was.