"All I want for spring vacation is a tan," the poem read. I looked up at my 14-year-old daughter, Maggie, who was floating dreamily on a raft across the crystal blue waters of our villa's backyard swimming pool built into the cliffs. "That's it?" I said. "That's as far as you've gotten on your assignment?" "I'm still
thinking, Mom," Maggie replied and drifted across the pool again. I was about to drift off myself when a huge splash interrupted our dreamy state.
"Tsunami!" shouted my 9-year-old son, Henry, leaping into the pool and creating the perfect wave to drench his lounging sister. The unprovoked assault started a splashing war, which I could see was not going to go well for me, and I retreated to the relative safety of the villa.
Three days earlier, as our plane approached the U.S. Virgin Islands, Maggie, Henry and I spotted what looked like a tiny emerald shining in the vast aquamarine sea below us. We set down on St. Thomas, let the warm balmy air embrace us, grabbed our bags and met up with Sheila who escorted us to our rented jeep. It was great to be back in St. Thomas after 14 long years and
I was amazed at how familiar the streets seemed as we downshifted into first gear to the crest of Skyline Drive. As we descended down the back side of the mountain the glint of the pure aqua blue waters of Magen's Bay glistened through the enormous leaves of the under brush. The kids gasped as we headed down the narrow road with no side rails to save us from (what they were
sure was going to be) our impending death. I let loose with an inspired pirate's laugh as we rounded to bend to the perpendicular drive of our friends Billy and Frannie Newbold's house in Peterborg. I just love driving in the islands! Adrenalin can be intoxicating. We were met at the door by Billy and Fran's canine welcoming committee, and Fran promptly escorted us right
back into their jeep to head out for an afternoon cruise on their boat. I couldn't have been more delighted. There is no better way to enjoy the true splendor of the islands than from water. We headed from the Yacht Club on the southeast coast out to the sweet little island of Little St. James where we dropped anchor for a late afternoon cocktail and some curried shrimp.
The Newbold girls, Emily and Sophie joined Maggie and Henry on the transom to delight us all with a jubilant series of flips and twists into the sparkling afternoon waters. I took in the view of the lush hillsides plunging down into crystal coves and let myself be swept away by the simple pleasure of watching the frigate birds soar high overhead in the pink twilight.
Liz Drayton & Family
