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It was everything I had dreamed of. Almost.

My wife and I had talked for years about quitting work early, and moving somewhere warm, just the two of us. We had read all of those articles about Americans retiring comfortably in Belize, and it sounded like just what we had in mind. Neither Sara nor I had any family left, to speak of, so the thought of striking off on our own was no problem at all.

We had put things in motion, looking into the real estate market down there, and soon we found what we were after... an affordable little bungalow on the coast, with its own private stretch of deserted beach. Excited, we put in an offer, and suddenly we found ourselves with a firm closing date. We started getting everything in order for our retirement (neither of us was terribly old, we wanted to do it early enough that we could still enjoy life), and suddenly everything started falling into place.

Nobody could have known that a drunk driver was going to run a red light, hitting Sara's car in a high-speed T-bone, as she drove home on her last day of work. It crushed her rib cage, snapped her neck, and killed her instantly.

So now, here I was, in a tropical paradise, and nobody to share it with. The last several days were a complete blur of Sara's funeral, the movers coming, a long drive south, deep into Latin America... The movers had arrived early my first morning here, with all of our furniture and stuff, and had swiftly loaded it all in, with minimal help from me, and now they had gone.

I looked around the now-quiet little house, full of shrouded furniture and sealed boxes, and suddenly I felt very alone. I could almost hear Sara's cheerful voice, talking about rolling up our sleeves and getting to it, and my eyes started to well up. I could use a hand right about now, I thought, wiping away the tear that started to roll down my cheek.

But help was not coming. I had to tackle this on my own. Doggedly, I threw myself into uncovering the furniture, and shoving it into something like a proper arrangement. That began to make it feel more like a home, which helped, and as my eyes dried, things moved along easier. I managed to get the boxes consolidated into out-of-the-way spaces, and even unpacked a few of them...

It was everything I had dreamed of. Almost.

My mate and I had searched for many mooncycles, to find warm, quiet waters with plenty to eat, a safe place to stay and bring our pups into the sea. We had found it, and we were moving our small pod into the protected place.

Nobody could have seen the rogue shark that attacked from below, just as the last of us arrived. It smashed into my mate, taking an enormous bite from his body and killing him almost instantly.

The rest of us killed the shark, but now my mate would never get to enjoy this tranquil place. The water was clear and calm, the feeding was good, but I was alone in our new home, with nobody but my few pod-mates to share it with.

Filled with sadness, I swam behind them, paying little attention when they tried to get me to play. I missed my mate, and had no interest in our usual games. Bless their good souls, they tried to comfort me with little nuzzles, but it was not working...

...by early evening, I was tired. It was hot, and I was sweating. Mental note: must check the air-conditioning this evening. Right now, though, I wanted nothing more than to jump into that water and cool off. So I went to the front of the house, which had an open deck, and down the steps to the sand. My clothes were mostly packed yet, so I had no intention of trying to find a suit -- after all, there was not another soul in sight, anyway -- so as I crossed the sand, I tossed my clothes behind me, reaching the water butt-naked. I walked out to about thigh-deep, and then just flopped into the water back-first, letting its warm saltiness wash over me.

The temperature of the ocean here had to be about 80 degrees, not quite bathwater, but close. The surface was almost smooth, here in the cove, and it ever-so-gently lapped at the shore. The sandy footing seemed to go out a long way, in front of me... I could see the bottom as the water gradually deepened. With no surf to speak of, the tide had managed to wash up lots of dried kelp and other flotsam and jetsam onto the sand, and without anyone here to keep it up, the beach was littered with it. Another project for another day. Right now, all I wanted to do was float here and feel it soothe me.

With the water in the cove so calm, I could hear a long way, and there seemed to be a splashing sound, coming from further out. I wondered if I had some neighbors, somewhere down the beach -- I could see a house or two, much further around the cove -- but I saw no people, and heard no voices. What I did see, as I sat up and concentrated, was a small pod of dolphins swimming by, and it was apparently their breaching that I'd heard.

I'd always been fascinated by dolphins and whales, so I stood up and watched as they made their way past. Such sleek, muscular creatures, spending their entire lives swimming, eating and mating. They must have found good fishing in this quiet cove, so they probably loved it here and would be frequent visitors...

...I felt the far-off splash, more than heard it, my senses on alert after our recent tragedy. But this was no shark, nor another one of us. I heard no beating of fins and tails, only a soft swishing, as if this creature had neither. Intrigued, I and two of my pod-mates separated off and swam to investigate.

The newcomer turned out to be a landwalker. We had all seen them before, of course, moving about the water's edge on their thin limbs, or trying to swim with their pitiful excuses for fins. They always seemed to admire us, watching or even waving as we passed, and so we had come to enjoy showing off for them...

...three of them separated from the pod, and swam a little closer to me, evidently interested in this new creature bobbing at the edge of their domain. Holding their heads above the surface, they called to me... that soft screeching that sounds like children's laughter. It made me laugh out loud, and I waved to them. "Hi, folks!" I shouted, "Nice to meet you, too!" One of them showed off by rising up on his tail and "walking" backwards, another performed a magnificent backflip, and then they were gone. I smiled to myself, thinking I had just met my favorite new neighbors.

...we called to this one in greeting, and it waved and called back to us, in its strange language. That meant it was a good time to give it something to watch, so one of my friends stood high on her fluke, and the other one flipped up out of the water, landing in a great splash. I simply watched the landwalker's face, its pleasure obvious even to one of us. As we turned to swim away, I considered that this might be a nice neighbor to have. For certain, it was something to take my mind away from my sorrow.