Early this September, I went on vacation. For a long time, I hadn’t.
The last time was to the Dominican Republic when I was about 11 years old. I used to go almost every summer with my mom. I’m sure I had some fun. But every time I think back to that time, I mostly remember the discomfort and anxiety-producing moments. One time, I ran across a yard with tall grass barefoot in Monción, a humble, rural part of the country where my mother’s lineage descends. My feet and legs were killing me! I ran out of the grass to examine my legs to discover angry black ants bitting my feet and legs. Another time, I went to use the outhouse at my aunt’s house in Monción. It was pitch black inside. As I pulled my pants down, I began to hear the loud buzzing of what seemed to be the largest bumble bee in existence. Screaming, I tried running out of there, almost breaking the door, forgetting it was locked. Less dramatic experiences include the incredible heat; the persistence of mosquitoes, ants, and roaches; and the intermittent availability of electricity.
Still, I was excited about the possibility of traveling in 2020. Then COVID-19 happened. People in Europe got stranded, and I definitely didn’t want that to happen to me. So, in 2021, when my mom wanted to take a vacation together with some family, I thought this would be a better option: I could revisit the DR, reconnect with family there, save money by sharing costs, and have the safety of having family with me in case there was a sudden surge in cases and hospitalizations that might change the nature of international travel.
Well, I did much more than I thought I would, such as see and explore Santiago, where I mostly stayed and had family; go to a two-family pool party in the barrio; enjoy a few days at a nice resort with family; experience the local club scene; meet wonderful people; swim in a river; explore the nation’s capital, as well as very rural parts of the country, including the one place that sticks out in my memory more than any other in the DR: my deceased grandmother’s tiny old house. In all, I visited and explored Santiago, Santo Domingo, Puerto Plata, and La Vega. I didn’t expect to feel so comfortable and free there, but now I see it as a second home.
But it wasn’t just fun; it was meaningful. So much so I can’t say I came out the same person. Remember, this was my first vacation in quite some time. And I’ve always been rather reserved when it comes to new and potentially uncomfortable social situations. I decided to embrace this one and didn’t regret it. It is unquestionably the best vacation I’ve ever had. Yes, I reconnected with family and a country I had mostly forgotten about. But, also, I spent some special time with a special lady. There was a moment deep in rural-ass La Vega, where she’s from; we (her, her family, and I) were going to go swimming in a river, something I definitely had reservations about. If we were going to go, it made sense to go during the hot midday. But the sun had begun to set and the water was getting cold. I was sure I wasn’t going in. Spurred on by others, though, I decided I’d go in a little, just to not say no. And then, seeing it was ok, I went in a bit more, and then a bit more. I had made it my mission not to dive deeper than waist high. It was too damn cold. But we (her and I) played. And, eventually, I submerged my upper body. It was frigid, but I kept doing it. At one point, nighttime now, she wrapped her legs around my back and hug me for warmth. We stayed there quietly, almost alone in the water, submerged except for our heads. I don’t know what would’ve happened if someone needed a first responder in this rural-ass part of La Vega. But I let it all go and appreciated the moment. I looked up at the stars, which shone much clearer there than in light-polluted New York. (I had wanted to major in astronomy but didn’t to pursue creative writing.) I remember thanking God for the moment, a small respite from the lunacy. It was a transient moment, but one that I will never forget. I don’t know if she will be the one I end up with. In the end, no one has anyone forever. So as I grow older and wiser, I also grow more appreciative of all the small things; Blink 182 was on to something. I exist in a perpetual bubble of now, not in some hypothetical future, or in the regrets of past events. It’s hard, for many of us, to remember that.
I held on to her in silence for what seemed like an eternity in the dark stillness of the water. They called to us, and we had to leave. As she let go, the water turned cold again. I promised to remember the time under the water and under the stars.