Life is like a sail.  To get the most out of it, you gotta pull it in tight and head straight into the wind.

I just arrived on the island of Abaco, in the Northern Bahamas.  Jane and our son have dashed off to the grocery store before our bags are unpacked.  It’s a small but well-stocked resort grocery which hasn’t changed a lick since I first came here at the age of five.  Even the grocery items don’t change much – Ritz Crackers, little cellophane wrapped pork cuts with green jelly mints, Goombay Punch, Conchy Joe’s Hot Sauce, and Bay Rum in plastic bottles.

Technically, my family is about a quarter mile away when I see it in the sky.

It’s noon, and I’ve only been in the Abacos for an hour, when I see a strange bird pass over me.  The sky is bright blue, the underbellies of the clouds are turquoise – the effect of the shallow sea illuminating them. Under these clouds is the raptor, black and white, with streamers on its tail, and then it vanishes behind the pines.

I walk down to the white sand beach, and I look out towards Great Guana Cay.