“Mommy, mommy!” Grace chirped as she walked in to the hotel room with her Dad. “Look what I bought you!” She waves a card in the air.
Despite the fog in my brain, I smile. “Don’t come too close, honey,” I say. Having the flu while on vacation sucks big time. I don’t want it to spread to her. She hands the card to my husband who brings it over to me.
It is a postcard of the island, this tropical paradise we’re on. The photo shows the beach from the vantage point of the ocean. White caps crashing against the shore. Bright umbrellas, sun chaises and beach towels on the sand. A half open coconut, with a hibiscus and straw sitting one of the tables. The blue sky matching the one that’s actually outside my window.
“Thanks, sweetie!” I am grateful for her thoughtfulness, but irritated inside by the fact that I cannot enjoy the real view. The real sand. The real sun. All I have is this picture to imagine its true beauty. I turn over the card and the price tag is still on it. Five dollars.
I give my husband a pointed look. I don't have the heart to comment on what a trap the hotel gift shop could be.
"At least you know what you're missing," my husband teased.