A Postcard The Flash Forgot

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

A Postcard The Flash Forgot
June 22, 2003

“Here. Get this one.”

“Why?”

“It PROVES for the final time that the green flash is a reality.” Darlin-man said.

“There is NO green flash.” I insisted, for the tenth time. “I’m not sending my friends myths. They’ll believe everything I send them.”

“It says right there that the green flash happens every night at sunset here on Grand Cayman Island.”

I took the card. Hmm. It did say that.

“And you doubted the story?” He had been teasing me about the green flash since we arrived.

“I still don’t believe it.” I said, shaking my head. “How many sunsets have we seen since we’ve been here?”

“One every night.”

“Exactly. And how many green flashes have you seen?”

“None yet. But. You have to believe. Your refusal to believe in the green flashes is keeping them hidden from our view.”

“What?” I laughed. “You think it’s like Santa Claus? Like you have to believe?”

Darlin-man gasped. “You would doubt the writing on the back of a post card? You scare me.”

I turned to the young Caymanian clerk. “What do you think about the green flash?”

“The what?” She asked, ever so politely.

I handed her the postcard.

“WHAT? What are they talking about?” She called to the older sales woman. “What’s this?”

The older sales clerk quickly read the blurb about the flash. “I have no idea.”

Darlin-man slunk back into the clothing racks while I chatted with the women. “Have you both lived here your whole lives?” I asked, smiling.

“Yes.” They agreed, quickly.

“And you’ve never heard of the green flash?”

“Never.” Younger said. “And my daddy told me every story on this island. I NEVER heard that story.”

“Me neither.”

“Oh.” I said, raising my voice to be sure Darlin-man could hear me. “Do you think someone made up this story for the tourists?”

“Must have.” Younger said, turning the sunset postcard over and over. “I’m going to buy one of these cards to show to my daddy.”

Yeah. Well. I still needed to choose a postcard to send to my friends and family. I always buy fifty copies of the same card, so I can be lazy when I fill them out and don’t have to try to match the personality of the friend I’m mailing the card to with the photograph on the postcard. That gets way too complicated, and friends have started postcard feuds over who got the better picture. I know. There are much better reasons to start feuds.

I picked out a card of an uncombed beach at Oscar’s Point, at East End, close to the point where Billy took us spear fishing. It wasn’t going to be most people’s idea of the perfect beach photo, since it was completely natural without any sunbathers or sailboats to spice it up. But. It was authentic.

I spent bits and pieces of the next few days filling out the cards. I know. That isn’t any small feat and I found myself scribbling away during our down times so that I could get them done. It was the second to last day of our vacation, and I was still writing away.

“Aren’t you done with those yet?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why don’t you send them when you get home?”

“No…”

“Wouldn’t you rather relax on the beach?”

“Hmmmm?”

Yeah. Darlin-man got the hint and took his book out to the beach. I needed to finish these cards. Many of my friends had collections of postcards from all the places that I had traveled over the past ten years. I was almost done.

When I finally finished, I took the last postcard and wrote out my name and address and found Darlin-man on the beach.

“Here. This is for you to send to me.”

He squinted his eyes. “If I write this out for you now, then you’ll read it now. So I’ll just TELL you that this has been a great trip. I’ve had a lot of fun. Glad we had good weather.” He joked.

“Hey, funny boy. Fill out the card. You can mail it yourself, if you want to. I won’t read it till I get home. I promise.”

“Go back inside.” He demanded.

“You can’t make me.” I said, pulling up a lounge chair and finding a spot in the semi sun.

He put a lot of thought into writing the card. In fact it may have taken him as long to write out that card than it took me to write out the other forty nine cards put together. I didn’t mind. I was reclining on the beach. He could take all day. I love sending postcards. It’s a perfect way to share my love of travel. And I love getting postcards too.

I got his postcard several weeks later. It was a perfect reminder of our time together.

Holly,

What a great week! So relaxing, so beautiful. Thanks for sharing one of my favorite places in the world with me. Hope you enjoyed my traveling shoe collection. Here’s to lobster and wine on the beach.

Your favorite Darlin-man

I know. It was a vast difference from the message I sent on his postcard:

Darlin-man:

I don’t want to go home. Stop.

I like the beach better. Stop.

I like eating fish everyday. Stop.

Why don’t you quit your little doctor job. Stop.

And let me support you. Stop.

With my column writing. Stop.

We would have to live on the beach. Stop.

With the crabs. Stop.

And catch fish and eat coconuts. Stop.

You could bring all the shoes you want. Stop.

Your favorite Holly. Stop.

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About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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