“You have sad eyes,” he said. “You miss someone.”

I instantly disagreed, at least in my head. To the waiter, I smiled.

Missing was only one of the many emotions that have taken over my days as of late. Excitement, anticipation, exhaustion, anxiety, stressing, ebullience, diligence, multi-tasking – those all came long before missing. And this week? No, missing was not the predominant feeling…instead, sunburning, fruity drinking, snorkeling and relaxing took precedence. And yet…

These past few days, I’ve held the role of an observer. Going on vacation by yourself, especially to a tropical island, has allowed me to sit back and watch as much as I wanted. People scoffed at the idea…”going so far away, how will you entertain yourself?” I assured them that years of business travel all over the world, my impetuous nature and my 27+ years of being an only child had well-prepared me for a little jaunt to paradise.

And I’ve been right. Besides the “Just One?” comments that are so prevalent at restaurants, this has been a breath of fresh air. I went parasailing. I went snorkeling. I laid around as much (and as often) as I wanted, napped as much (and as often) as I wanted, ate as much (and as often) as I wanted. And through it all, I was able to breathe the fresh ocean air, tan (or redden, as it may be) my body, and relax enough to prepare me for days to come.

That’s not to say that I’ve been a hermit. Quite the contrary. Apparently, vacationing ‘en solo’ gives off a message of “please, you, anyone, hit on me.” My parasailing captain wouldn’t let me sit anywhere but next to him, and tried to woo me in broken English against the roar of the motorboat. The bartender on the snorkeling boat wanted me to enjoy my drink, “just as much as he enjoyed looking at me in my bikini.” The wait staff at various restaurants knocked drinks and items off my bill, with a wink and a smile. Who said vacationing alone doesn’t have its perks?

But honestly, I’ve had a blast. I’ve been busy swapping stories with Amy & Casey, Gavin and Talia, Bob & Karen, Pat & John, Kathy…I could go on and on. They showered me with compliments, tried to set me up with their sons, fought over who was better suited since, in their words, they would “never have been this brave to go off by theirselves at age 27.” I took the compliments to heart, with a smile.

I think only children are able to fall back into the “observer” capacity without even knowing it. And as I’ve been here the past three days, I’ve found myself seeing people that remind me of my mother. Of my father. Of my friends. Of a boy too far away. Of my beloved deceased grandfather. Of the people, the things, that matter.

“You have sad eyes,” he said. “You miss someone.”

And I do. A lot of someones.