Compromising Positions

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Blue skies dotted with clouds that looked like cotton candy made a canopy above her, rolling green hills-Nature’s idea of wall to wall carpeting-stretched out around her, and brightly colored boats bobbed like jewels on the water before her. Waves beat against the shore in counterpoint to the beating of her heart. The sun kissed her skin leaving it warm and lightly gold. The scent of the ocean rekindled some ancient connection in her, echoing a time when the ocean guaranteed survival with food, and work, and trade. A simpler time. Not easier-oh, she’d never believe it was easier-but it was simpler.

It was so different from Miami. Miami had sun and beaches, but the city masked the pulse of the land. It never slept. Neon lights and music had long since replaced the rhythm of the ocean. But there was something about Portofino-the old fishing village rubbing shoulders with the bright lights of the restaurants and cafes-that managed to keep both the old and new alive.

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