L’île

“Why would one say “Ibitha?” I don’t get it. Do you say, “Hey, I’m going to España?”
 

—

What, this? 

This was just me, being the usual nag I am as my boyfriend and I were discussing our imminent departure to Ibiza. That’s when our WhatsApp group erupted with yet another one of these bloody voice memos: “Wooohhhoo!!! We’re on our way to Aiiibeeeethaaaa!!!”

“Aaaiibeeetha?” 
I gave up.
 

—

I had never been to Ibiza, and I wouldn’t say the destination was top of mind, but when a group of friends offered to share with us a house on the island, my boyfriend immediately loved the idea and booked us another house.

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The sun was beating hard as I was walking down the streets of Los Angeles, gripping at my coffee, tip toeing amongst my emotions. I knew they were there, hiding in the hazy morning skies, weaved in the fibers of a palm tree or the swinging step of that yoga girl passing by.

Really, I didn’t want to face them.

Emotions are overrated, I told myself. Why do we need to let ourselves feel all of them?
Can’t we sometimes, just for a moment, brush them off and move on?

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