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Because, you know, I’m in my thirties and the fact that I’ve never surfed feels embarrassing.
I approach the baggage counter, where a woman in her forties makes eye contact with me.
“Hi, it seems like my surfboard is missing.”
“You are…?”
“Amelia Hansen.”
“Okay. Let me look that up. Big surfer, eh?”
“Oh yeah,” I nod, not wanting to go into great detail about the fact that I’d begged my ex to take me surfing for years, but he never did.
She clacks on her keyboard with her long nails. “Ah yes. Your surfboard didn’t make your transfer in San Antonio. We’ll have to ship it to you. Can you enter your address?”
“Of course.”
Outside the airport, I’m greeted graciously by warm, tropical air. Much better weather here in January than back home in Chi-town.
As I wait for my ride, I look down at the list I made in the notes in my phone:
Things I’m leaving behind in 2022:
-Wellington Media Marketing
-Jansen
Things I’m looking forward to in 2023:
-Finding a new job
-learning to surf
-Becoming a certified yoga teacher
-My Villain Era
-Dating
I swallow.Dating.Ugh. Am I really looking forward to dating?
Nora has been ‘dating’ for 3 years and that isn’t what I want. Frivolous relationships have never been my speed.
But that’s what I’m looking at, I guess, now that I’m single again. I’ve got to go with the flow of the universe and not resist it.
Look, I want a family.
Can’t I just fast forward to the part where I’ve met a great guy, we have a kid, are relaxed with a house in the suburbs, and going on family vacations once a year?
I’m jolted out of my thought trance by a well tanned, fifty-ish man with a gray and black beard who taps me on the shoulder.
“Are you Amelia?” the man asks in a gruff voice with a slight Spanish accent.
“Uh, yeah. You are…”
“I am Ronaldo.”
“Oh.” Ronaldo. The guy the yoga retreat said would pick me up at the airport. “Hi Ronaldo.”
