Our week was framed in palms.

Sunsets and sunrises edged with green swaying fronds. The rustling leaves, a white noise backdrop to the melody of the waves. Sunlight shadowed on the sand through dancing blades thirty feet above.

They lined our pathways, pathing our way towards back-alleyed restaurants with upbeat music, rave-worthy food, and long lost friends. They traced the coastline, a sentry guard guiding our sailboats safely back into shore.

Paradise is a symphony directed by these trees. Both director and accompaniment, conductor and chorus, ever present but melting into the background to allow the sunsets, and the sand, and the sunburns take the forefront melody.

Our week was framed in palms, paradise laying at their feet.



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