My eyes are closed and all I can envision is his smile. I feel an upward tug of the corners of my lips. I'm giddy like a schoolgirl, rubbing my hands over my body as my thoughts stray to my surfer. Damn.

I bolt up in bed and shake my head fighting against the flood of emotions I'm experiencing. I can't let myself get carried away by a single enjoyable afternoon with a handsome stranger. For all I know, he may be off flirting with another woman, someone younger. Why would anyone want a fifty-year-old woman with silver in her hair?

Carrie was right and I am losing touch with reality. I didn't come here to find a one-night stand or heartbreak. I came here to find myself and that isn't through the eyes of another person. Been there, done that!

I throw my feet over the side of the bed and can't help glancing into the mirror over the dresser. My cheeks are reddened and my nipples push against the thin layer of my cotton tank. I stand and walk over to stare at my image. Even my pupils are dilated with the passion in which I'd lost my bearings.

With impatient hands, I push my hair back from my face and secure it with a hair tie before plodding into the bathroom. My hand stretches past the shower curtain, and I crank the hot water on full blast. Methodically, I strip down and step under the steady stream of the shower head. With a roughness I blame on my frustration, I pass the loofah over my skin as if I can banish the signs of age which have left their mark.

I rest my hand on the tile wall supporting myself as I taste the salt of tears that mingle with the water splashing down from the shower head. It has been a long time since I last cried. I slide down with my back against the cool stone until I'm sitting on the wet floor while the shower cascades over me. My chest heaves with the sobs I'm powerless to stop. How much time passes I don't know, but I continue until the water chills.

Pushing my body off of the floor takes every bit of my energy, but after I struggle to my feet, I manage to turn off the spigot and grab a towel from the rack before exiting. My thoughts are less chaotic and more reflective about what just occurred. I'm frightened and right now it would be easier to retreat from everything and go back somewhere safe where the familiar reigns and life holds few surprises.

That isn't why I've come here.

Straightening my shoulders stiffens my spine and my resolve. I won't let fear dictate my future because I know life speeds by like a falling star — beautiful, sparkling with delight until it burns itself out. Perhaps there was still time for me to sparkle with light and life. Puerto Rico could be my ticket to a fuller existence.

My plans for today will involve exploring some of the towns near Isabela, and the first one on my list is the community of Aguadilla. I was told that there is a beautiful beach perfect for swimming. I pack a small bag with sunscreen and a beach towel before grabbing my purse and a ball cap. I skip down the stairs to the parking lot looking forward to what may lay ahead.

The drive from Isabela isn't far, but I'm too engrossed by everything around me whether it's a small store, a villa overlooking the Atlantic or an oddity I would only observe somewhere I'd never been. The daily lives of others are so interesting. I want to stop the car constantly to capture a moment in time with my lens, but I know I will never get to my destination if I do.

Once I reach Aguadilla and turn off the main highway, I find my GPS leads me on a zigzag route to Crash Boat Beach. I manage to arrive without too many redirects and park the car. The parking lot is surrounded by palm trees and some steps lead me down to the sandy beach below. On my left are the Atlantic Ocean and a bright green row of boat docks attached to a yellow pier jutting out into the brilliant blue sea. A yellow metal arch sits midway on the pier and I grin with delight to see a couple getting their photo taken next to the arch.

To my right is an area shaded by numerous palms with wooden picnic tables placed at intervals underneath. A row of canvas canopies and corrugated metal roofs provide shade for the businesses lined up along a wooden boardwalk. Their signage advertises hamburgers, tropical drinks, grilled seafood, and Puerto Rican culinary favorites.

A salty breeze pushes my hair into my face and I grab an elastic band from my bag to secure it behind me. I pick out a spot in the cool shadows and lay out my beach towel. The sand before me is dotted with colorful umbrellas and children frolic around their parents as their laughter mingles with the sound of music while they play in the sand.

An older man walks along the beach with a row of pelicans following behind him as if he is their mother hen with his baby chicks. The amusing sight is worthy of a photo. I pull out my camera and begin to focus in on the unlikely familial group. The quiet whirring of the shutter pleases me as I click away from different angles zooming in and out to capture different facets of the scene.

I never realized how relaxing the mere sound of my camera is for me. I'm transported to another dimension where the only things in existence are the objects I view through the lens. Almost like the view the director of a Sci-Fi movie shows the audience through the cyborg's eyes with all of the numbers and instrument panel readings surrounding the scene, this is my favorite way to view the world around me.

"That's the Pelican Man." The slow delivery and Southern accent inform me that Griff has just settled in beside me on the beach.

I lower my camera and raise my eyebrows to shoot him a look I hope reflects the what-are-you-doing-here expression I want to communicate. He chuckles so I don't know if it had the effect I'd planned.

He points in the direction of the Pelican man and his crew before he continues his explanation, "Harry has lived here a long time and has befriended the pelicans and they follow him even responding to the commands he's taught them over the years. You can have your photo taken with a pelican if you want."

"Really?" Before I can say anything more, Griff signals to the older man. "Why did you do that? Maybe I don't want to have a photo."

"Oh come on! You were fascinated by them. I know you want to get a photo with them."

I couldn't continue the argument because the Pelican man stood before us. His warm eyes shone with kindness as he patiently waits with one of his large friends perched on his hand. He gently utters a single word command to the bird and tosses a small piece of something to his winged companion who grabs it out of mid-air with its large beak.

Griff says something in Spanish to the man, and he nods to me. I shoot a worried look at Griff and scramble to my feet despite my shaky knees. Will my arms be strong enough to hold the massive bird? I eye the long talons on its webbed feet with dread, but inch closer to the man extending my arm as a whispered prayer passes over my tongue.

Another command and an airborne edible incentive have the avian stepping onto my open palm. The sudden weight on my arm has me responding by clenching its webbed feet to hold it in place but the man shakes his head and motions to keep my hand open and flat. My muscles protest tightening as my new friend uses my body as a resting platform. Griff pulls out his cell phone and snaps a photo of the two of us. Money is exchanged before the Pelican Man issues an instruction, and his feathered student crosses from my hand to his callused one.

I watch as this Pelican whisperer strolls across the sand with his menagerie following loyally behind in his footsteps.

"Wow." It seems like such an inadequate word for the incredible pleasure of participating in an interaction unlike any I'd ever had. I've seen photos of people with snakes draped around their necks and kids holding tiny alligators with their jaws secured at zoos for the photo opportunities, but somehow this seemed different. More exotic and real in some unexplainable way.

"When Harry isn't here, those pelicans go off and do their own thing. They don't follow other people around looking for food, but he is more than an easy way to obtain food. This has been going on for years. He has given them all names and they respond to them. He has taught them tricks and will get them to dance. Harry is a definite fixture at Crash Boat." Griff leans back on his elbows watching Harry and the pelicans interacting by the water.

"He seems so natural with them. I was a bit intimidated by the size of them. Sharp claws and that huge beak — one of those birds could really hurt someone."

Griff laughs, "You are too large to eat. They focus on the food they can swallow in one gulp."

I stick out my tongue at him, fold my arm across my chest and shift away from him in response to his retort. In reality, I fight to keep from laughing at his teasing.

"Seriously, pelicans have been on this planet for over 30 million years. They are a remarkable species. They use the pouch under their bill to capture food like a fishnet. Some pelicans can dive bomb into the water after fish. And I wasn't saying you were a large woman. You are close to perfect."

I glance his way and find him watching my reaction. I snicker, "Yeah, I know, but I thought if you can dish it out, so can I."

"Let me buy you a drink to apologize."

"What? An alcoholic drink? Where?" I look around at the boardwalk of vendors.

"Come with me, fair lady and I will show you how it's done."

He jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for me to grasp. I place my hand in his and he pulls me to my feet and I find myself a mere inch or two from him. I raise my eyes holding my breath nervous and uncertain.

"Before I forget. The photo with the pelican is free but Harry sells necklaces that help support his rescue efforts for the pelicans and other birds on the island." Griff reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out a turquoise colored pendant suspended on a black braided cord. Unhooking the clasp of the necklace he reaches his arms past my shoulders.

I can feel the warmth of his hands as he clasps it behind my neck. His fingertips brush lightly against my neck. My stomach clenches in reaction. I glance down at the stone on my chest. It sits a bit off-center and I raise my hand to center it, but Griff has the same idea and captures it between his broad fingers moving it slowly until it lies just above the swells of my breasts.

I feel a sudden awkwardness and step back brushing the sand from my bottom. The intimate moment is over.

"Thanks, Griff, for the photo and the necklace." My words swift as I attempt an unflustered attitude.

"My pleasure." He raises his hand to usher me towards our destination, and we walk side by side to the boardwalk.

"First, we need to visit the coconut people. Then, after we purchase a coconut, we take it to the beverage people for our drinks."

I smile. "Very enterprising of them to work together."

We watch as our coconut is cut so it can be used for our drinks. Griff pays the man and we walk down to the beverage booth. I let Griff order my drink and after a short time, I'm sipping an icy cold concoction with a blend of fruit juices, coconut and Puerto Rican rum sitting beside him in the sand.

I couldn't have asked for a better day!