Could Be

by Cindy Johnstone (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Cook Islands

The wedding was over. We woke up the next morning, ready to depart on our Honeymoon to the Cook Islands, a chain of remote Islands off the eastern coast of New Zealand. We were traveling into the untapped, and that’s exactly what we wanted. A land pure and undeveloped. The Cook Islands consist of 15 islands, with the largest just beginning to dabble in the art of tourism. We spent the flight rehashing the wedding, exchanging funny stories. Dave loved my story about my extended side of the family, who are famous for cynical complaints and vast disapprovals. As I visited their reception table, gleaming in my wedding dress, I asked how everyone was doing; Old Aunt Bev blurted out, “could be better.” Harrumph. Upon arriving on the island of Rarotonga, we made our way to our lodge. As we approached, a cheerful, large woman emerged from a straw hut. “Welcome, welcome!” She exclaimed, with her hands outstretched. Alma, as we would come to know her, owned and ran the hotel. She proudly toured us around the property, which consisted of four straw bungalows, tucked within a lush forest. It was a perfectly humble, but rustically attractive, little sanctuary. As we finished the fantastic dinner that night, prepared and served by Alma, I suddenly heard a large thump behind me. I turned around to see that a large lizard had fallen from the straw roof. Shocked by the impact, it laid there twitching its tail. Out of nowhere, a large black cat casually strolled over to the lizard, gobbled it up, then strolled away just as cooly as he arrived. After dinner, we enjoyed a beer while sitting on the patio of our bungalow, and taking in the beautiful view. The mystery of what was out there, what was to come, excited us. Just as the sun glowed it’s last embers, the black cat from dinner suddenly appeared. It let out a choppy meow and walked towards us. As it got closer, I noticed it was missing an eye and was covered in scars. “This cat has seen better days,” Dave remarked. Unsure of its nature, we wearily watched it. To our surprise, it settled in right between our chairs, curled up, and closed its eyes. The next day's adventure was led by local “Birdman George.” Dave and I bumped along in the bed of his pick up truck as he toured us around the island, teaching us amazing facts and showing us breathtaking beauty. We ended our tour on a remote beach, and as we sat, watching the waves break, a pack of roughly seven wild dogs suddenly appeared over the bluff. They studied us carefully and slowly started approaching. We looked to Birdman George, and he motioned for us to walk back to his truck quietly, and away we drove. That night, as Dave and I sat on our patio, the cat appeared again. He let out his mangled meow and curled up next to us. We decided to name him “Could Be Better.” He reminded us of Old Aunt Bev, battered and bruised by the hands of time. Only, what we noticed is that Could Be Better actually seemed quite happy. He might have a few scars and one less eyeball to show for his life, but this old cat was content. Our adventure through the Cook Islands continued, and without fail, Could Be, as we called him for short, visited us each evening. The Cook Islands were every bit as wild and raw as we had hoped for. As we set off on this new life together, we realized our marriage would likely be a lot like this - an adventure full of unknowns. There would be highs, lows, moments of bliss, but also pain. We were not always going to know what lay around the corner. When all is said and done, we might end up walking around a bit like Could Be. We decided right then and there that as long as we keep the joy alive, appreciate the journey and all that comes with it, then really, what is there to complain about? Things really could not be better.