The Keys to Happiness

When our kids were young, we pulled them out of school for a week and headed for Key West, a place we had never visited. We flew into Miami. rented a van, and headed south through the Keys. Andy knew of a place that offered a small house and courtyard with a pool - perfect. In the lazy mornings. Andy would walk a block or so to get strong Cuban coffee and delicious rolls and the kids would complete their school assignments. Then it was time for a swim and a bite of lunch before we set off to explore. We strolled down Duval Street, stopped in the little stores and looked for a place to have dinner. One day we rented bicycles for everyone and rode by President Truman's "Little White House". Another day, we visited Ernest Hemingway's home with its six-toed cats. Each evening, we'd join the throngs at Mallory Square to watch the sun sink colorfully into the sea, laughing as we saw a hippie selling marijuana-laced brownies from her bicycle. We enjoyed Cuban cuisine and great seafood and walked through the touristy shops. 

Our landlord suggested snorkeling, so we showed up at the marina to be outfitted with the necessary gear, including bright blue wet suits for Andy and me. We looked like giant Smurfs. I've always been prone to motion sickness, so I took over-the-counter medication and thought I had it covered. Right. We boarded the boat along with a very large, friendly German guy with a bushy beard. Although it was a bit choppy, I enjoyed the ride to the point where we would drop anchor. Then the boat stopped. Instantly, waves of nausea overtook me and I upchucked over the side. I got in the water with the kids and barfed into the sea. Then I got back into the boat and spent the rest of the voyage lying on the floor hoping for a quick death. By the time the trip ended, all of us had been sick. We slouched back to the house with aching ribs and slept for hours, exhausted by the wind, waves and sun.

All too soon, it was time to head home, tanned and full of stories to tell. I think of this trip each Christmas when I hang my little wooden snorkeler ornament on the tree. The kids still laugh about that boat trip and their un-seaworthy mother.

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