I never did find my camera. We spent the morning of our last day in Freeport making calls and checking van transports to no avail. The camera was gone and it was time to leave for home.
Of course, I was disappointed and feeling a little guilty for losing photographic proof of a great family trip to the Bahamas.
The camera must have fallen out of my non zippered beach bag. I wondered if it was on the floor of the transport van, on the deck of the boat, buried in island sand or at the bottom of the clear blue water? I realized we would never know. I knew we would have to rely on our memories.
We would have to remember gazing at crystal blue water with contented looks on our sun tanned faces. We would have to remember sitting on the tall chairs at the tiki bar, frosty glasses in our hands. We would have to remember walking on the beach and high-stepping it toward the surf because the sand was so hot against our bare feet. We would have to remember laughing at stories told by new friends as we kept our balance on the catamaran.
We decided we had lots of good memories to outweigh the loss of the camera. Maybe our recounting of the trip will provide better memories than pictures, we hoped.
I still wished that I had a picture. Imagine my surprise and joy when I remembered the tiny family photo in a souvenir key chain bought at the resort during our trip. I looked through the eyepiece of the trinket and held it up toward the light.
There we were, suntanned, smiling and making memories!