Almost Perfect

by Jean MacKinnon
(Westwood, MA)

The ocean waves crashing on Meads Bay is the perfect way to wake up in Anguilla with the coffee percolating as the sky begins to lighten. As usual, we are on the hunt for the perfect sunrise picture.

We fill our travel mugs, grab the camera and head for Smokey’s at Cove Bay. The fishermen are just starting to load up the boats as we walk behind the golf course to see the sun wink on the shoreline.

It’s almost perfect; the orange orb is waiting to rise as we snap the glorious awakening of the sun across the bay, with St. Maarten skyline as the backdrop.

The day is new and fresh as we head back to our unit on Meads Bay. We unpack our towels on our lounge chairs as we appreciate the soft breeze and lulling sounds of the waves twenty feet away.

At 9:30 we take our usual walk along the beautiful shore; today being Friday we walk the opposite of yesterday and head for Malliouhana. The soft sand is like walking on powdered sugar; it’s almost perfect.

We hold hands and frolic in and out of the surf. The water is gentle and cool on our feet and so clear we can see the tiny little silver fish darting about. Knowing it’s our last full day on our slice of paradise, we linger longer on this walk.

For lunch, we take our walk to the Straw Hat for lunch at the outside bar. We make sure to harass Chef Kirt when he comes out of the kitchen and we must always take the Yankee hat off Buddha while we eat. Being Bostonian’s, it just makes it easier to digest our gourmet lunch without Yankee paraphernalia (sorry Peter). Lunch is almost perfect.

We walk back to our beach chairs and contemplate a dip in the ocean; a definite must on our last full day in Anguilla.

After a sun kissed nap and wonderful conversation with our fellow Meads Bay residents, we saunter up to our unit to shower and dress for dinner. We’ve arranged a van to take us and three other couples to da’Vida for a nice dinner in Crocus Bay.

We arrive for dinner at 8 and are promptly seated at a table with a perfect view of the kitchen. It’s a fun, lively atmosphere at the table and we can hear the music drifting in from next door. We finish our evening with a sampling of dessert for everyone; it’s almost perfect.

The full moon beckons us to linger. We walk next door and are treated to a wonderful, local band at the café.

I wish I could say it was a perfect last day on Anguilla, but how could the ending of such a beautiful vacation be considered “perfect”?

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