Ricardo startles me. He is making his way slowly across the deck – calculating every step.
“Go on!” I encourage, “What’s the hold-up?”
He turns his small head to gaze up at me – slowing his progress once again. He has a way of making each step count. He doesn’t make a move without thinking it through. There is something to be said for that mentality, but right now I find his turtlesque movements a bit unsettling.
I sigh and pick up my writing once more. I try my best to ignore him and let him do his thing without my impatient interruptions.
Suddenly his brother, Umberto, makes an appearance beside me.
“Holy cra.. and what do you want??” He gives the same solid stare of his brother and plods along after him. Two of a kind they are. And quiet too. Not big talkers these two. Also a good lesson – listen more, jabber less. But I wish they’d make some noise instead of just sidling up beside me like that. Sheesh.
Once again I become engrossed in my words, but am frightened once again out of my reverie by Harold’s shrill cry. He does this at least once a day, but it is still unsettling. I watch as he quickly flits down the shore – perhaps something startled him as well. Maybe the boys have more sneaky family down that way. Soon he calms down and resumes his watch over the sea.
I head inside to try and find some peace at last and am anxious to rest my wearied brain. I’ve been trying desperately to write while on vacation and have found these distractions too much to bear. The constant lapping of the water is also always calling me to its edge, like a siren luring me closer.
As the sun begins to set, I say goodnight to Fred, Frank and Fernando. They come by every evening to watch the sun set and keep us company.
Alas, tomorrow we will head home and I will have to say goodbye to all our new friends.
Ricardo the lizard and Umberto, his brother
Fred, Frank and Fernando – the frogs who came to hang out on our windows every night.