Dreamboat

It has been over two weeks since my return from Fiji, and it also has been nearly two weeks since my last dream of life on the island.

I was curled up in my fleece robe, tucked in beneath my trusty down comforter and the world around me was of no consequence (except, maybe, for the temperature in the teens outside).

Until I heard a faint, distant noise... What was that?

A low hum. A familiar pitch I hadn't heard often.

Seriously, what was it?

It was a boat. Chugging along past the reef outside the front doorstep of our Kukuru bure on the tropical island of Qamea. It was early, and it probably was transferring a group of the resort's staff to work about 6 a.m. I had heard this noise often during our 10-day stay. Like the beautiful birds singing to each other in the predawn silence or an early fit of rain that would tickle the leaves on the native foliage just outside the window, it was a welcome noise that often shook me from my slumber. A natural alarm clock, if you will. And one that I gladly would get used to given the chance.

Then I realized I was in my own bed, covered by layers of warmth to fight off the Colorado cold. The noise I heard? A truck humming along Interstate 70, bracing for the soon-to-come rush-hour traffic.

A boat? It's a much, much nicer memory when I think of it like that.