Puerto Rico Day 1

A woman three rows ahead, about to give birth? Laying down in the aisle. Knees up, sweating. But the baby, like my anticipation, waiting in the belly of the plane. Then we touched the ground and the sunlight of Puerto Rico soaked the morning yellow. I walked into the sun wearing a vest bathed in sweat and the humid, hot island air.

Driving along the ocean, we opened the windows; gentle clouds and spotted sky. The moisture filled the air and warm tropical breezes, salt and spray. Margaret and I are walking along a path in a field leading to a spanish fort in Old San Juan. The sun is setting, old red bricks are melting with age. We sit on them, and pass the hour catching up on a long year. Hers filled with Cuban politics and socialism, film. Mine embellished tales of Morocco, music, and U.S. politics.

Old San Juan, filled with bright colors, yellows against reds and browns, and White baroque molding. The sun reflected off tiles. Cool blue cobblestone streets. We ate malloracas in a small cafe.

Puerto Rico Day 2

It's early morning and she knocks, Narisel's curly hair appears through the open door covered in a straw hat. Looking like one of the bees on her bee farm in the lush central mountains. She asks us out to breakfast. We eat papaya and mango and her big eyes. Her boyfriend helps her on the bee farm.

Leaving San Juan and Margaret's many friends behind, we drove across Puerto Rico and through the Central Mountains. Armando is building a mahogany tree farm deep in the colorful, flower laden, plush green forest. His two labradors greet us at the top of the hill despite a pouring thunderstorm and we pass several hours flooded in a small rundown bungalow at the top of a craggy hill.

Puerto Rico Day 3

We anchored to a moor out past the Mangrove Cays in the midday sun. The light bleached the water white. My back burning red. Cool ocean floor below and fire corals, barracuda and streaming tropical fish.

Margaret's parents, with roots in the northeast, a New England family. They are sweet yet formal. Her grandma full of stories about farming life in 1930s Pennsylvania.

Her younger brother, Eric. He likes to play metallica on his electric guitar with long blonde hair and blue eyes. He is open, contemplative, gentle. Her step-father awkward, brooding, affectionate. Margaret is easily frustrated by him and snappy, resentful.

I want to feel something but I'm not sure what it is. I find Margaret's heart unreachable and protected, even for close friendship. It makes me feel alone.

Puerto Rico Day 4

It is nice to swim and stretch my limbs in temperate, easy water. I slept in a hammock at Margaret's cousin Jose's house. Capitain, a drooling, blumbering dog, wishes to share the hammock with me overnight.

Puerto Rico Day 5

Jorge, Margaret's boyfriend, joined us last night in the evening. He has a dry sense of humor but I like his jokes. Although it has been difficult for me to accept him, Jorge is thankfully at ease with me spending time with Margaret.

Today we had a family outing at the beach, body surfing. Jorge, Eric and I played the drums together on a sea cliff, pounding rhythms on a steel drum we found in Eric's closet.

We leave for the mountains again and I am dreaming of the hanging fruits in the rainforest. Of a star fruit. Crunchy yellow syrup and juices. Big wide leaves.

Puerto Rico Day 6

I am riding bareback on Bamboo. He is a beautiful horse. We are riding up a hill, and I am having visions of the lush vegetation, falling like a wet green waterfall. A blanket of vines and fruit trees tucked over the hills. Then a storm rises up from the valley and a bowl of wind brings large, intermittent drops of rain. I stretch out my hands and begin to pray and sing. I can see it all happening before me. My eyes squinted, my hair blowing back in the wind. My heart on fire and invigorated. Come, beautiful wind! Come!

I am worried maybe Margaret and Jorge will see me like this. I fill up a water jug and return to the house.

Puerto Rico Day 8

My parents and grandparents arrive. And two of my cousins. We take a ferry to Vieques. A distraught young man is transporting his father ashes. We ride with the ashes across the island.

We rent cars and swim at night in the bioluminiscent bay. I am afraid of the dark warm water. But stars and jellyfish are glowing around our bodies. Grandma comes out slowly led by my mom. When everyone is sleeping, Grandpa and I cook fried chicken in tomato sauce at night. We drink rum and he tells me stories about the firehouse in Brooklyn.

Puerto Rico Day 9

We stay up dancing all night in San Juan, sleeping on the walls of the old fort. A girl pees in one of the towers. Then a rainbow flashes in the direction of the sunrise. Dolphins rise out of the sea into flips. We realize God is saying goodbye to us. We are tired.

Puerto Rico Day 10

We watch men pulling fish from the sea. Their catch includes crabs and seaweed, lifeless although the net is large and long. They do not catch enough fish for profit.

We leave for the airport. Soon we are packed into the plane and shipped back to New York City.