Wish you were here.

"Secluded," I requested once we reached the water on the northern part of the island. The drive was spectacular, water sparkling in the sun as shades of blue varied depending on depth and some other magical factors I'm too tipsy to determine. "It's so pretty," I sighed multiple times, leaning my head back as I stared out the window.

I followed two friends across the coarse sand, wincing when my bare feet encountered rocks. The pain was worthwhile, however, when we found a tree to use for shade and spread a blanket on the sand so we could watch impressive waves crash, view unimpeded by crowds of people. "It's almost embarrassing for you," I told my companions, both of them local. "Locations like this - days like this - just don't happen everywhere. You're lucky."

They talked about how they really should make it to the beach more often and I drifted, watching the waves and clouds and wondering how cold the clear water would feel. We talked about work and told stories, giggling over some and frowning in thought over others. We spread sunscreen over noses and shoulders, coating skin liberally in an attempt to prevent turning pink.

We finally left clothing in piles on the blanket as we wandered toward the ocean, splashing in until we were breathless with shivers. Once submerged, I quickly adapted to the temperature, exploring the slightly slimy texture of the rocks under my hands and knees and floating in the shallow pool protected by rocks at greater depths. The waves tugged us back and forth as we talked, cooled by the water surrounding us but warmed by the sun as it shifted overhead.

Returning to the blanket, I wiped the water from the lenses of my sunglasses and sighed once again. Life somehow feels far away here - mundane responsibilities and frantic worries seem outrageously inappropriate in a place so stunning, colorful and distant. So whether splashing in cool water or smoothing on sunscreen while nestled on the sand, I let myself relax.

We had drinks, admired the view some more and yawned as we decided it was time to head back. I thought, watching the mountains instead of the water out my window as we reversed our path back home, that I wished everyone had the opportunity to let go for a few hours. To think of nothing but how wonderful shades of blue can appear. When the biggest worry is how much your nose will freckle from excessive sun and insufficient lotion. That you could laugh at stories and sip icy drinks while reclining on the sand or seated under an umbrella.

I'm happy. And I hope - wherever you are and however you occupied your day - you're equally content.