The scent of tropical flowers drifted across the morning breeze.

Chairs scraped against the stone patio.

People carried their breakfasts orders out to the deck, weaving between tables before settling in for another island morning.

One guest, however, already had his breakfast waiting.

He climbed onto the ledge beside me, rested one tiny hand on the edge of his cup, and began eating as though he had every right to be there.

No reservation.

No hurry.

No concern that he was different from everyone else.

For a few quiet minutes we shared breakfast.

He never looked at me.

He never posed for a photograph.

He was simply enjoying the morning.

Watching him, it struck me that I wasn’t looking at wildlife.

I was noticing the guest at the next table.