The town was small and everything seemed old and dated, like this corner of the world had been forgotten about. The buildings, cars, fashion, way of life, it was all outdated, but the town still had a spunk to it. There was something magical in the air here, I could feel it.

One day, I had overheard the person working at the post office say “it will get here when it gets here” as a response to a customer inquiring about a late package. The phrase stuck with me. _It will get here when it gets here._ I started to consider the phrase and the town I now lived in.

The people in this town didn’t seem to have the urgency in them the way city folk did. They leisurely drove around or strolled from one place to the next. Maybe this was how the people of this island looked at life. Not rushing around and waiting for the next thing to happen but patiently and contently living moment by moment.