In the early days of September, I wandered a city with walls that stretched on forever. I went out each morning with the intention of getting lost. My sandals wandered alleys where cream stone shone in sunlight around each twist and turn. Orange tiled rooftops created a quilt over buildings below.
I’m drifting in the Adriatic Sea, weightless in its salty waters. When did I get this light? In the fresh water of the great lakes, my feet start sinking down by now. Here I am buoyant and delight in my ease of floating. I’ve swam more in Croatia than I do in an entire summer in Michigan and it’s quickly become my favorite way to spend my time here.
We sit on a rocky ledge with a green expanse stretching across the horizon. Lakes of turquoise fill the center, jewels in a sea of forest spilling into each other. Looking down I can see where we hiked earlier, an abandoned part of the park we had to ourselves. We crossed a river far below, balancing in the current with our shoes in our hands. I stopped in the center to stare at the falls rushing towards us not far ahead. The memory lives in my mind and not in my camera that was packed away in case I slipped. We sat on the riverbank looking up at the falls beyond the ones in front of us and caught two tiny tourists waving at us from a bridge high above. I smiled and waved back, happy in the knowledge we were alone and not following the masses.
I drift in the water of the Adriatic Sea, my body floating with my arms in a T shape. It’s just me, the water, and the sky. I pick up the distant whir of an engine under the surface. Lifting my head from my bed of waves I see a small boat zip by. I look around and see blue, orange, cream and green. They are the colors of Pučišća.