Chapter 14 (Felicity)

                                        

                                              
I woke up slowly, sunlight warming my skin—I'd left the curtains open. I wish I could say that I felt fresh as a daisy—I did not. I was definitely hung over. Burying my head in the pillow I found myself wishing I could be forty with my twenty-year-old capability to bounce back from a night of drinking. Groaning, I pulled myself out of bed and slunk to the bathroom. 
Leaving the door open I thought, No lights—definitely not turning the lights on in here. Climbing into the shower, I just let the hot water wash away the alcohol I knew was seeping through my pores. The massage on my scalp was surprisingly healing. I think I need an infusion of caffeine ... and water. I should probably drink water, not just stand in it. 
I went through the motions of getting ready. Deciding though that I would get breakfast out, I skipped room service and held off on taking something to help with my headache. I did however knock back one of the giant bottles of water they provide in the room. Just before leaving, I checked my phone and found messages from Caden.
Caden: I know you said no texting
Caden: But I didn't want to let today pass without saying Happy Birthday
Caden: I realize everything I've done, recently and in the last couple years, hasn't told you this, but I love you. You are everything to me. I've done nothing to make you believe that. I wish I could turn back time, but I can't. So I will show you that change is essential to me because YOU are essential to me.  
Caden: Enjoy your birthday. Call me if you want to talk. But I couldn't let you think that you weren't on my mind on this very special day. I love you. 
I looked at the messages, reading them over again. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second. A thank you? A heart? Something easy and kind? But no. Not today. Today wasn't about us. So I left him on read and exited my hotel room. 
Ten minutes later I'm seated in a tiny café tucked beside the hotel—blue and white‑tile floors, pastel barstools, the smell of espresso thick enough to stand on. Nutella French toast lands in front of me like a gift from Heaven. Hair‑of‑the‑dog logic wins: I order a mimosa the size of a goldfish bowl and enough coffee to fill a kiddie pool. By the time the plate is cleaned of powdered‑sugar evidence, I feel... marginally human.
Human—and obligation‑free. No reminders popping up on my phone, calls to answer, no colleagues pinging me about yet another crisis. It's my birthday, damn it, and I have officially reclaimed it.
Phone in hand, I open Google Maps and type "Things to do in Miami." For the first time in what feels like forever, I can pick anything without factoring in someone else's schedule—or their opinion. The freedom tastes better than the French toast.
I settle on three things: Wynwood Walls, Pérez Art Museum Miami, and a sunset cruise. Zero sand, zero tequila shooters (probably), maximum touristy delight. A perfect farewell tour.
By late morning the Uber drops me onto NW 2nd Avenue where color bleeds across every surface. Murals stretch to the sky: a neon jaguar stalking a queen; block letters screaming "CREATE MORE, CONSUME LESS." I pay the entry fee, slip through the gate, and let the fun begin.
Our assigned guide mentions that every wall here is repainted—nothing is permanent. I stop at a dripping teal heart half‑buried under fresh pink strokes. The piece is titled Love in Layers. It's beautiful and messy and profoundly unfinished. I snap a photo, tempted to send it to Caden with a snarky "work‑in‑progress." I don't. Instead, I note in my phone—Life can be repainted.
Before I leave, I buy a postcard of that mural. A keepsake for Future Me, because Future Me could always use the reminder.
A quick ride-share later, I'm standing beneath the Pérez Art Museum Miami hanging gardens. Biscayne Bay glimmered like liquid glass beyond the terrace. Inside, the exhibit Between Memory and Migration pulls me room to room—in the exhibit, there are textiles woven with family photos, a film loop of waves projected on suitcases. One installation is a cube of mirrored beads suspended from the ceiling. I stepped inside; infinite versions of me shimmer back: younger, older, braver, calmer.
I touch a bead, whisper, "See you in ten years," and laugh when a nearby guide nods like this is perfectly normal behavior.
I left the museum and decided to grab lunch. A fifteen minute walk away was an area of food trucks where I found one that served "the best arepas in Miami!" So of course I had to try one.  I grabbed a picnic table, enjoyed the sunlight and the hum of conversation around me. The pulled pork arepa was incredible—the Fanta refreshing and ice cold.
Stuffed to the gills, I let myself relax for a bit before I headed off to do a little shopping and walk off the calories I just took in! I found myself at the Bayside Marketplace—an open air shopping adventure. Listening to the steel drums and feeling the ocean breeze, my feet carried me from one shop to the next—my arms heavier with each door I opened. I bought a breezy teal dress that made my new tan pop and flowed around my legs, landing at my knees. I also found a fabulous new pair of silver sandals that shined in the sunlight. 
Making my way back to the hotel, I dropped off all my new purchases—which included a duffel bag so I can get it all my retail therapy results home tomorrow! I quickly touched up my hair and makeup, dressed in my new duds, and headed back out the door. I have a sunset cruise to get to!
Arriving just in time for the 7 PM cruise. I boarded the double‑decker boat with a coconut water in hand and claimed a rail seat. Families were posing, influencers angling their phones for golden‑hour selfies, and children were running around excited for the sunset tour. The skyline ignites in pink and tangerine.
Halfway through, the captain cuts the engine for photos. Phones rise up; I close my eyes and breathe—four counts in, six out—the way I learned in my yoga classes. Warm wind, salt on my lips, a city buzzing behind me yet somehow far away. For the first time in a long time, the quiet inside my head is louder than the world outside. This is the life. This birthday was unexpected but in truth, it might have been the best birthday I've ever had.
Closing out the night, I sat on my balcony back at the hotel. Sandals were askew off to the side, a final glass of wine in hand from room service, I again breathed in and out. I snapped a selfie with my phone so I could seal this memory forever. Changing my phone screen to the new picture, I looked at myself—really looked. And I saw a woman who looked younger than she had when she arrived in Miami just a couple days ago. She was kissed by the sun, cheeks blushing, eyes alight with joy and calm. I saw a woman finally at peace with herself—ready to go home and have the conversation with Caden that needed to happen.
Before going to sleep for the night, I set the postcard I'd purchased earlier against the lamp. It was self addressed with a reminder "YOU ARE SEEN" written on it. Stamped and ready to be mailed, I didn't want to forget to send it out in the morning. It should reach me in a couple days, but having the postmark from Miami, along with the reminder that the postcard symbolized, felt like something special and different for this birthday. 
With my alarm set for morning, I climbed into bed and exhaled a sigh of contentment. I drifted off to sleep with the realization that, whatever tomorrow brings, I will face it head on—no fear and no anxiety can hold me back.