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THE
BOAT
I spent
days drifting on the blue-green sea with no water to drink and
the sun beaming on me, blistering my skin. My only paddle pushed
me in microscopic distances to where I thought land might be
found, based on the sun and stars. Night was a relief from the
too bright day that showed me in plain and clear detail the
featureless water without revealing the sandy beaches where I
could end my journey and find rest.
It was a lie. My eyes were deceived and from the eons that
passed through me, I grew weak and tired. I lost hope. I had no
dreams anymore since I had no hope. Land should have been near
and close and visible and welcoming and green like it was for so
many others. It was for others but not for me. It was never easy
for me because I never took the easy way and never sailed with
the wind that was so changeable and treacherous.
But I paddled the microscopically small distances anyway, hoping
that the sum of the smallest movements across the infinite ocean
would add together and justify my efforts, reward my efforts,
bring me to shore. Each stroke was agony, bursting the blood
from my muscles and without sight of land, without hope, I
paddled.
Thirst was my only companion, my only motivation. Too much salt
in the sea propelled me to land for the fresh water it promised.
I knew that was no lie. Land, green land, had fresh water able
to slake my thirst. The land was the lie. It was not. There was
no land. It did not exist.
The turtle found me nearly lifeless in the boat, nearly out of
the boat. Her green head poking out of the water looking and
seeking and curious, bobbed near to me, then disappeared in the
moon lighted ocean. I saw her return, checking the moon for a
sign as the brightness dimmed nightly and I made sure I followed
her lead. I paddled at her speed and together we spent days
moving somewhere.
Then one night, there was no moon. One night there was a new
moon and it was a black sky lit by stars sparkling in glorious
blackness and she was swimming faster than I could paddle. She
was swimming in a fast, straight line possessed by something and
ignoring everything except the lack of a moon. I followed and
followed and followed until exhausted, I fell asleep.
The sun blistered me awake and the boat was no longer rocking
and swaying. I lay a long time looking up at the clouds, lost
forever. I was dead, I was sure of it. Nothing moved but the
clouds. The waves sounded as they always did and the turtle
sang.
I sat up and looked at her guarding the sand nest she made near
the water’s edge and there you were, looking at my burnt and
exhausted body. You came and brought me water and I felt as one
with the she-turtle. I was home again.
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