Eyes not even open yet and I can hear the rhythm of the surf as it moves back and forth over the sand. The thin white curtains billow in the ocean breeze creating patterns in the early morning light. Light then dark, then light, dark again. Even through mostly closed eyelids I sense them dancing.

I lay there for a moment snuggling into the many pillows, a smile plays across my lips as I realize I'm still wrapped in his tshirt. I bring the neck of it up to my nose and breathe in his scent, memories of the night before contained within.

A long slow stretch followed by an extravagant yawn and I am up and out of my bed, bare feet treading quietly on the natural sisal rug. The tshirt is pulled up,  over my head and off before being straightened, folded, and placed upon the dresser for when he returns. That last moan of, "Oh Babygirl, yes..." echoing in my mind as I go about my day.

Wrapping a light cotton robe around my body, I head toward the outdoor showers. The perfume of the tropical flowers surrounding them wafts to my nose even before I see them. Gardenia, oleander, jessamine, frangipani - their scents mixing and mingling, made bolder by warm splashes on multicolor flowers as I test the water. Someone had been busy last night or this morning. Soft, fluffy towels had been rolled just so and placed in easy reach. My shampoo and soap, the one we both favored, had been set out, a flower laid on top. A moment of longing...of gratitude...fills me as I finger the blossom lovingly.  A raucous laughter fills the air and I'm startled out of my musings. A gregarious threesome makes their way up the path, talking, laughing, touching. I'll be joined in my ablutions this morning it seems.

They come around the corner and hesitate when they see the place already occupied. "Don't mind me," I say and step under the showerhead. They don't, of course. Not that I would expect them to. Or want them to. The woman is gorgeously proportioned, red hair shining in the sun. The two men are opposites - one light, one dark. I watch as the three frolick happily in the spray. So much "frolicking" had been going on here in the commune. It was exactly what I had hoped for. My shower over, I reach for a towel, gather my robe and leave them to it, smiling, their gaiety infectious.

Dressed in a bathing suit and rather gauzy cover up, I am eager for a day of scuba diving, but walk languidly to breakfast observing the commune as it awakens.The lighthouse is always the first thing to catch my eye each morning. Much older than any of the other architecture, it looms large in the sky above us. It was one of the first structures to be renovated and now serves as a residence for one of the original members. Just like every other morning, he stands at the continuous windows sipping his coffee and gazing out over the ocean. Tall and mostly lean, even if he doesn't think so, he cuts an imposing figure. I worry about him being alone so much, but he seems to thrive on it, so I leave him be.

Walking on, I'm amazed at how beautifully the garden has bloomed. Vegetables and herbs, fruits and flowers.  Bees buzz lazily here and there. The effort of our head gardener is easily seen as her assistants run here and there on her command. She smiles generously at each one as they complete their tasks, her blonde hair bobbing as she gives enthusiastic encouragement.

In the distance, mechanical sounds quit as tea is made. No doubt the mechanic has been at his project since the very wee hours as his hands holding the red tea mug are black with grease up to the elbow. Smears of grease decorate white tank top and jeans over slender body, but those hands...the thought of the handprints they could leave cause me to shiver with delight. Which he sees if the smirk and nod are any indication. I smile and give him a wink as I walk past.

The main building sprawls. The patio is dotted with singles, small groups, large groups all breaking fast together. The outdoor kitchen is manned by a pensive cook, cutting into the quiche he has just taken out of the oven. A quick smile is thrown my way as he notices me, but concentration is quickly back on the quiche. I can tell by the piece lovingly laid out on my plate that it's my favorite. "Thankee, Sai," I say cheekily as I take the plate. A flash of ginger hair as he nods and then grins wide. "I devoted much time to your breakfast. I hope you enjoy it." "I'm sure I will," I say and mock a deep curtsey. His laughter shows in his eyes before I hear it erupt from his lungs, full and robust. That laughter fills me with joy and the impertinance required to attain it will earn me more, I'm sure.

I sit at an empty table and observe as I eat. The crash of the waves is closer now. People swim, snorkel, dance in the sand. The pool is occupied with early morning exercise and the jacuzzi with conversations still going on from the previous night. Bloody Mary in hand, the current speaker's gesticulations tell a merry story even without being able to hear it myself.

A quick hug from behind and a cheerful "Lovely" heard before the giver glides away to join a table.

"Overlord." A very different greeting. Deliberate and deep. "Trickster," I reply steadily, controlled. A moment goes by before we both laugh and he walks away, his ambition leading him into his day.

A group of men stand as another joins them, admiring one another's kilts and a new tattoo. A group of women talk animatedly about several subjects at once, laughing and affirming one another as they chat. A bit of fresh fruit balanced on a book as someone hurries back to the library.

Breakfast finished and my plates cleared, I head to the beach and the boat, my day to be filled with explorations of the ocean depths. Looking back, I smile. So many good people. Such a beautiful place.