THE ISLAND
by
Kenyon Ledford



Time passes so quickly this way. When every sense one possess is arrested by beauty, time indeed, flies. The aroma of the island is a delight; whether it's native blossoms, salt spray, burning driftwood or tropical ozone. The feel of being overwhelmed by the sun one moment only to be showered by sand and saltwater swept in by a south wind the next, makes me tremble. The taste of fresh, young coconut milk washing down a charred Ahi steak is sublime.

The sky is so blue that you could swirl it around with a few whispy clouds, pour it into a gourd and drink until you stagger. And the sounds? Island music can only be accepted, never explained, or caught. It can only be. Birds, wind, water and trees, I hear them all, and accept. Not only does the Island overwhelm my five senses so that I'm helpless to respond, but the constant beauty leads to blissful thoughts and understanding. I used to wonder how a dog could lay around outside all day, with nothing to do, and be happy. Now, I know.

Ironically, the only disruption in this paradise of solitude are a couple of exotic birds. They look like African Grays—indeed, their vocabulary and wide array of sounds they make would suggest just that. They must have been domestic at one point but escaped. They have a knack of showing up when I'm at my most meditative. They flap their wings near my face, perch and stare, flap around some more—and their incessant chatter; it jars my mind! I've named them Salty Sue and Garrulous Gail; though I can hardly tell them apart.

When I'm very rested sometimes I can will them away; otherwise I tolerate the intrusion. They usually don't stay for more than ten minutes.
Just look at that sky. Today the sunset must be the reddest I've ever seen. See it reflect
upon the white sand like the world's largest sand painting—no, a mosaic. A mosaic of...of, oh, speak of the devil, my parrots are back. Are you going to talk to me today girls, or just screech and flap?

“Honestly, Gail,” Sue said. She fluffed the pillow under the patient. “If you ever see me like this, just shoot me.”
Gail jotted down some notes on the patient's readings. “I don't know why the families let these people live like this.” She brushed a lock of hair out of hisenyon eyes. “Look at him; eyes open but not seeing anything.”
Sue waved a hand in front of his eyes and clucked her tongue. “That's not living.”
Gail nodded. “Let's get out of here. You going to that party, tonight?”