The spell was cast using a mix of a glass walled beachfront bungalow, the incredible colors in the water at Ao Vongduan (arguably Ko Samet’s most beautiful beach cove) and the incantation from Emily’s sister Molly on FaceTime, “you have no idea what you’re returning to – everyone here has COVID”. Ideas began to swish around in our heads and suddenly in a folie a deux, Emily and I could see renting those waterfront bungalows and waiting out Omicron right there at Ao Vongduan.
It had a strong logic to it. Omicron is eating up America. It has not significantly affected Thailand. On Ko Samet, we spend approximately 85% of our day outdoors. We could get a 30-day extension on our visas. the kids could do either independent study or our school district’s Online Academy. Bailey might not get to go back to school or could just as easily be sent home due to an exposure – so why not just stay safe here?
At first, the big questions were would Bailey want to stay and would her parents allow it? The sunlight sparkled on the blue-green waters of Ao Vongduan like a glimmer of hope that we might just say “fuck it” to life for awhile longer. We stayed in this blissful state for almost an hour when over possibly the best coconut shakes we’ve encountered – served in the coconut itself – the grim silhouette of reality began to appear. Emily’s work is picking up again and mine is waiting for me to be back in full swing on Monday. To do right by our jobs, we would have to work through the night. But the coup de gras was the kids’ schooling. Online Academy involves real-time instruction which would also mean middle-of-the-night activity. Not an option. Independent study could be good except that the week’s worth of independent study they have now has left us fighting tooth an nail with Sennen to get his work done without a fight. The idea of continuing it is exhausting. There’s no way we could hack it. Better to send him off to school where he does just fine.
And with that, the spell broke and we went back to facing the hard truth that today was our last day of Samet life.
“Daddy, you get no kisses for two days!” Ailyn said to me when she thought about the fact that we are leaving Ko Samet tomorrow. I told her I also don’t want to leave, but we have to. She wanted to know why we have to and I paused – because I didn’t like any of the answers I might give. Work? School? Grocery shopping? Looking out to the Gulf of Thailand, it was hard to see how any of those things were relevant. I eventually went with school, work and returning Bailey safely to her family.
Five minutes went by.
“Daddy, you get no kisses for 20 days!”
I totally understood. I would be angry at me too.
And it wasn’t just Ailyn. Sennen is content for us to live the rest of our lives here, although he accepts the return more easily than Ailyn (who incidentally almost always cries when we leave someplace).
After a fun day at Ao Vongduan which included paddle boarding for everyone but me – and dinner down the beach, we headed up to Ao Phai and the Silversand Resort with the initial goal of getting Emily the Oreo crepe she has wanted for dessert for days. After crepes for some and ice cream for others, the group began to party on the beach with dancing, wheelbarrow races, running races, sign painting, floor painting, sand limbo, fire twirling and more. A final night to remember.
While some of this was going on, I walked over toward the water’s edge and looked out across the island and the beautiful lights lining the beaches – and then up to the beautiful starlight skies. With the gentle breeze, the twinkle of boat lights out in the Gulf and the smells of a Ko Samet night, I could feel 20 years ago for a moment. The freedom, the lightness, the fears, the uncertainty, the excitement, the exploration, the friends and the people who passed briefly through my life. Looking out at the water and up to sky, I remember how absolutely far from home this place felt and how that thrilled and sometimes scared me. It was wonderful and crazy. And it changed me forever.
Then I looked back at my family, happy on the sand, playing. And unlike 2002, my heart had a place it belonged. There were the people I cared about most and a sense of meaning and purpose I hadn’t imagined. Somehow, I had brought it to the same place where I felt free, unchained and yet uncentered. A place of glorious trepidation had turned to one of beautiful certainty. In that moment, I had squared the circle and balanced the equation. The past and the present were aligned and the story had a beautiful evolution.
My children may never know the feelings I had on the beaches of Samet because the world is already their oyster. They feel a sense of comfort and belonging in far flung places. Who knows what their adolescent and post-adolescent version of sitting on the edge will be. Or maybe they won’t need to sit on the edge to be independent and find their way. Maybe the will just walk the world with grace and comfort. That’s the gift I hope we give them.
For a moment, I also remembered the me without the responsibilities, ties, obligations. In that same moment, I felt exhausted – the weight of what I – and just about everyone my age – carries. Sure, there are all the many joys. If you live in my socio-economic group with all the privilege we have, it feels ungrateful to admit how much stress and weight you carry. People sometimes allude to it jokingly, but rarely talk openly about the heaviness that is the price for all the joy, stability and comfort. You can get away for a bit, have some personal time, exercise, read, dive into a book. But it never feels like my 24-year-old-self did sitting on a white sand beach, watching the far-off lightning over the Gulf of Thailand on a dark night – so very far away from home and with nowhere to be and no one who needed him to be anywhere or do anything in particular. For a moment, I wanted to lay down on the sand, surrender myself and feel that weightlessness for just a moment. But you can’t go back.
And in the end, why would I?
That person was not better off than I am today. And he didn’t know the gifts on what he had in the moment. He was free, but aimless and full of hidden self-doubt. He had awe and wonderment, but so much yet to learn and figure out. I am much wiser than him – and know the gifts I have in my life – in myself and in those people playing to my right in the sand. They are all of them a gift I gave myself along the way – the culmination of what was in my heart and learning to cultivate love, trust and partnership. They are the result of a longer path begun during a moment on that beach so long ago. And I am so grateful.
