Docking with Oblivion
As she kept packing, a running thought kept going through her mind. What am I doing? I don't know how to sail. Like a melody on repeat, but she kept packing. Yesterday was the beginning of this whole new adventure when she had got the results from her tests. Cancer, the word its self, is like a death sentence. Having no family of her own and a handful of friends who would honestly miss her. She stopped her packing for a moment to survey everything laid out to be put in duffle bags on the bed, next to the piles of clothes, hygiene products, medicine bottles, bandages, favorite books, GPS, and two pieces of unreadable notes. "Ok, next call, mom, and then I'll log on for just a bit," she said to herself. She picked up her cellphone and began to swipe through her contacts, and found her target. "Hi mom, how are you?" she asked. For the next fifteen minutes between the sobbing and pleas for her to stay, she finished with telling her that she would keep in touch when she reached places to dock and resupply. She set down the cellphone and took a small drink of her tea. Walking over to the desk where the faint illuminated light coming from the laptop, like a tractor beam, drawing her to review her plans one last time. She gently sat down, set her glass in the ring clearly seen on the desk. Letting out a gentle sigh, she logs in and checks emails and her reservation at the marina.
