We returned home sandy, sun-kissed, and starving for dinner. But we also returned reconnected . We had mapped the contours of each other's silence. We had found the gold in the sunset.
Let’s be honest: most of us read Treasure Island as kids. We pictured peg legs, parrots, and “X” marking the spot. It was a story of grit, gold, and boyish bravado.
That was our first rule.
But what if I told you there is another way to read the map?
