Morning sun over the Balian Beach Rice Fields
I ran today for the first time in 10 days.
My God I thought, life is beautiful.
The sun rising warmly over the rice terraces, casting a golden yellow glow as sweet as honey upon the rusted cast iron fence and hand carved stone edifice of the Hindu Temple.
Into the Mangrove forest, along a deserted stone pathway, crossing cattle, coconut lined dirt roads, and palm trees… So many long, tall, fluffy palm tress.
Then up the hill, past a waterfall.
Hidden treasures I call them, and I pack them away into my “bag.”
I save them for a later time when a day is long or hard or life seems a little too monotonous.
Covers off, parting the lipstick red mosquito nets that drape my bamboo bed, my footsteps are silenced by the sound of waves beating the black sand beaches of Balian bay.
And the children sleep, lulled by the cool air, the ocean and the humm of the room fan perched besides their beds.
Today, we had a great day.
We bid farewell to small friends with Australian accents, little brown nosed dogs and a broomstick prince.
I took one last swim, returned the rental surfboard and greeted the warm toothless smile of the old, wrinkled Balinese women who took my $20 dollars for the 5 day board rental.
One final eggs on toast with homemade apple jam, fresh fruit and background music which reminded me I am indeed middle age.
This is living, this is what it means to breath I think, and now I type, sipping lightly sweetened, packaged Nescafe, my distorted reflection on the shiny silver tea pot and the warm Balinese air.
Tonight, everything seems just right!