Jekyll Islander

Footbridge leading to a cabana by the sea

South of Georgia, you will find the tourist-infested island of Jekyll. Its my 2nd night here, and my search for a supple night-life has never been more empty. Tonight preceded with a 3v3 soccer tournament my cousins, Chris and Jazz, joined. We are staying in a resort known as “Villas by the Sea”.

After dinner, I had a few bottles of beer in The Riptide Bar, which was hosting a birthday party, and was just 200 steps away from our villa. This time, there was no Uncle Mark to accompany me. In the duration I was in the bar, I talked to a few rednecks. A few cute girls, all of whom are taken (not married). I wasn’t that desperate though. After my last round of beer, I started feeling homesick again. Outside in the cold, a well-marked walkway led me to a wooden cabana along the eastern shoreline of the Island. The place was hardly lit, and in no way occupied. I sat in one of the wooden benched and contemplated on life itself while drowning within the rhythm of the crashing of the waves.

I thought of the family and friends I missed. The fun times I would’ve had, and had had. Although I have enamored myself in alcohol a few moments before, I was just too lonesome that I was sober no doubt. The sea was simply a sheet of black in the darkness. The cold front caught me frozen and shaken upon the seaside woodwork. Tumultuously, I was captivated by that moment in time; love, hatred, excitement, ambition, fear…the upheaval of anything normal became me.

For 20 minutes more, I sat in that bench.

I wished to be laid to rest that night for the next six hours listening to the waves. I wished to dream of my past some 3 months ago. Awake, I fought for a real conversation with somebody I wished to talk to, only to find light and shadows in between. I wanted so much to be at back in Manila, being me. The echoing crashes growing farther and farther unto patches of mindful memory.

For awhile, I feared me.