DARK SKIES & THE POWER OF STORMS

For our last day in the Maldives, Todd and I decided to repeat the flawless itinerary we had curated over the course of the week. We woke up late, around 10:00AM, and had breakfast. Caffeine carried us through the rest of the morning while we read our books and wrote by the ocean. Lunch and an afternoon cocktail made our bodies heavy and eventually the heat lured us back to our air conditioned room, where we could still enjoy the ocean views through the comfort of sliding glass doors. Sleep is inevitable the second you lay your head on a proper pillow, so we helplessly surrendered to a long nap. When we awoke, its was a slow saunter back outside to continue our schedule of reading, writing, and intermittently closing our eyes. With the heat at its peak, we ordered more drinks and waited for the sun to fall. 

As evening drew the clouds rolled in particularly low, turning the sky orange as the sun sank and then black in an instant. We had intentions to temporarily escape the private oasis our bungalow provided and walk around the island one last time. Maybe get dinner at one of the restaurants instead of shuffling room service trays back and forth all day. But the gusting winds and sheets of rain held us hostage - in the most perfect way. 

There is something so poetically romantic about storms. Their sudden force followed by an unsettling calm. Nothing can leave the air quite so clear - literally and metaphorically. A good storm can awaken your soul, change your course, maybe even give you a new life. 

We sat and absorbed its strength as it tore across the island. Only when the skies cleared did we begin to pack our bags and prepare for our next destination - a ritual we had grown quite accustomed to on our four month trip around the world. But this time it was different. It felt like our adventure had ceremoniously concluded and I wanted to go home. Rejuvenated, relaxed and ready to start fresh with everything I had learned, everything I had experienced. It was the first time I craved home more than the next adventure. And we still had 59 days to go. 

Chelsie Fish

Slightly exaggerated stories of love, life and travel.