“Mom, you’re being irresponsible. What if something happens to you? Who’s going to take responsibility?”
I sat quietly for a moment before answering.
“Michael, I’m sixty-two years old, not six. I’ve managed to survive for sixty-two years. I think I can take care of myself for another seven days.”
Neither of them was pleased.
But I went anyway.
The moment I arrived at the resort, I felt something I had almost forgotten.
Freedom.
Nobody needed me to prepare breakfast. Nobody was asking where the children’s shoes were. Nobody was waiting for me to finish washing dishes before they could begin their day.
I could wake up whenever I wanted.
I could sit in the garden for an hour without explaining myself.
I could eat a meal slowly, watching the waves through the restaurant windows.
On my second morning, I decided to walk down to the beach.
I wore a bright blue swimsuit beneath a loose white cover-up. I had almost changed my mind three times before leaving my room, but I finally told myself that I had not traveled all that way just to hide.
