Summer is here, and like jailbirds at Leavenworth, we couldn’t wait to break out of COVID prison.
Earlier this year, our youngest, who finished college in May, informed us that for graduation, she wanted an upgrade to a new 2021 Audi from her low mileage 2017 Ford Escape. When it comes to gift requests, our kids always swing for the fences.
The conversation that followed began and ended with “No!” Surely her college education, which cost the same as a comfy suburban home, was a gift in itself.
With the backbone of Gumby, we bent and pondered possible presents.
We settled on a trip to the Bahamas and invited three of her besties. To ensure that this fierce foursome stayed on the good side of trouble, and as our reward for bankrolling academia, we decided to tag along. We felt like geniuses.
We arrived on Harbour Island with enough luggage to shame passengers on the Queen Mary II. The beach was layered with pink sand, the same color pink used by Lily Pulitzer. The water was a shade of blue only found in a Crayola 64-count box of crayons.
“That day I saw more backsides than the last place filly at the Kentucky Derby.”
We rented a house and planned to eat breakfast and lunch in, hoping that our daytime frugality would offset the cost of dinners out. Our theory failed the first night. The college grads opened the evening with rum libations and lobster. To be conservative, I had only one Goombay Smash. Total dinner cost – $700. I began to wish we had invited fewer friends.
The next day we headed to the beach.
When did behinds, as in the kind that I have managed to keep covered my whole life, become so public? I love fashion and knew that the latest trend was “cheeky” bikinis, but on this flamingo-colored beach, there was a full-monty of southern exposure. What’s more, all the other women (except me) donned the same style.
That day I saw more backsides than the last place filly at the Kentucky Derby.
But, by week’s end, I had managed to relax and look past the Baywatch bums and the high price of a Goombay Smash. Our gaggle of grads had a memorable time, and as they gingerly took their seats on the flight home, I realized they had learned at least one life lesson: Always apply sunblock to parts down under.
Michele Valdez, a slightly compulsive, mildly angry feminist, has been an attorney and community volunteer. She has four demanding adult children, an enthusiastic black lab, and a patient husband.
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