Christmas Day dawned sunny and warm here. The other happy vegan and I exchanged small gifts. I'm happiest with a tofu press (I've wanted one for years!) and a very beautiful home made apron and headwear he bought for me at one of the local craft shows (honestly they are too pretty to wear, but I am wearing them anyway). He seems happiest with the new Sea Shepherd shirt on the way, and the "butter bomb" messages and donations I made also to Sea Shepherd in his name (you can find info about the "butter bombs" at www.seashepherd.org).
Mid-morning yesterday I went for a run. I put on a sparkly santa hat with my running gear and went outside. It was very warm, I would guess it was 80 degrees. Too hot for a santa hat, but I wasn't going to relent on that issue. With the sun beating down on me in solitude I was treated to nature in all its perfection, and ran the best time that I've run in many months. While I was running, I thought about all the Christmases I had spent in the past surrounded by family. I miss that stuff, I really do. But I also thought about Christmases I spent stuck driving highways covered with ice, shoveling my car out of snow banks, or waiting and worrying for a loved one who was driving to the festivities in terrible weather. Even as I was showered with the sun's rays, it was a little hard to reconcile that moment with how things used to be. This weather, this magnificent, remarkable, glorious weather. I just breathed deeply and soaked it in.
After I got home, I did a few light chores and got the great news that the other happy vegan was going to take me out for a starry sky nighttime boat ride. I should've known that the Universe had other plans.
We went out on the boat. It was dark. Very dark. Very VERY dark. I have not been out on a boat ride at night longer than I can actually remember. Certainly since living here, at night I have never gone on our boat launched from our ocean mooring. But, I put on my water shoes, and stepped into the Atlantic in pitch darkness. At first touch, the water felt shockingly cold. I laughed because really the water was maybe 75 degrees. Warmer than it really EVER got where I used to live. As I made my way slowly across the flats to the boat where Mr. Happy Vegan was waiting I adjusted to the temperature. I couldn't see much, so it took a few minutes to get out there. Once on board, I adjusted my hat and waited. I looked back towards the beach and took stock of my home, and the others on the shore. Some had Christmas lights, some were full with families celebrating, and some were dark. In a few minutes we were off. Heading straight out to sea in the darkness. I watched the shore lights get further and further away. I watched my home disappear.
We continued on.
After a while, I felt it. The boat vibrated. The engine sounded different. I knew something was wrong. He let off the throttle, and I asked "did you feel that?" and "the motor sounds funny." He felt it. He heard it. We both thought the same thing "trap line." So, with a light shining, we inspected for an entanglement on the prop. Nothing.
He throttled it up again, and the back of the boat shook. He said "that's it, we're going back." He pretty much knew what was wrong, but I didn't care. I knew he worked for hours the day before, and for quite a while the next morning to take me on our starry boat ride. I felt badly for him. I also knew that the lives of everyone on the vessel were in his hands, they always are when you board a boat as a passenger. In the pitch black of the Atlantic ocean, that is no small deal.
We gimped back towards the house in darkness. Every now and then a soft salty spray would wash over me. The winds were picking up slightly, and I couldn't see the rollers like he could. Mostly because I wasn't watching for them. Remember me? The girl who hates bridges, cannot swim, and is terrified of water? Yes, me. That's me.
I am not afraid when he is at the helm, but there was a conscious effort on my part to just keep breathing and don't think about anything else.
I saw the lights on the shore come back into view. I saw our turtle friendly lighting set against the lit mangrove, and eventually we were back on shore.
Even though things really didn't go as planned, I spent part of my Christmas night at sea. In shorts. Wearing water shoes. Looking at Christmas lights from the perspective of the ocean. I hope, and I think, that there will be a time years from now where yesterday will be one of the many Christmases I reflect upon. Just as I reflected upon the cold and snowy holidays of years past, yesterday is filed into my memory banks too. That, and the joy I feel to have my feet back on solid ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment