As I sat outside at the open-air cafe chomping on jerk chicken salad and staring past the bust of Buddha in the middle of the bougainvillaea-filled entrance, I couldn't stop thinking about the power of choice. Not just because the custom salad I chose was chock full of savory chicken breast and within the parameters of my new weight loss plan to "get my dancer's body back". But staring back at me was a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses; a huge symbol of my past.
The pop of a champagne cork in the quiet of a secluded beach. A toast to another year of love as the sun traces a brilliant path along the still, aquamarine water and tucks itself behind the clouds. The gentle caress of the heat at dusk as the powdery cool sand embraces our feet. A celebratory kiss.
