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Panorama from the balcony
Directly below us, groves of verdant trees dot the landscape and houses, big and small,
tumble down our hill towards the ocean.
I haven't even mentioned the ferries—both passenger and cargo—carving white
troughs through the water back and forth to Fajardo several times a day. Some afternoons
we sit mesmerized on our balcony, watching these boats' slow steady progress for a half-
hour at a time across our field of vision.
And at night, when the island is shimmering with darkness and the sea and sky have
melded into a solid mauve field, we watch cruise ships crawl across the horizon from St.
Thomas to San Juan, bright smudges of illumination seemingly suspended in mid-air.
And yet, despite this abundance of northern-exposure beauty, occasionally when we're
idling our motor at the top of the ridge to drink in the Caribbean view, I can't help saying,
“You have to admit, the view from this side is pretty fantastic.”
To which Michael will reply, “I agree,” followed by a long silence. “So would you
switch?”
I hesitate, gazing at the flat, tranquil sea.
“Not on your life.”
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