Castaway Destiny

I laughed at my foolishness. Could it be mine? I regretted my cynicism. Perhaps, this year, I dared.

My mind raced back to the day the ship set sail. I was among a crowd of faces I didn’t care to know. No names, we all held the same page. Pens and pencils, scribbled and calligraphy, jumbled thoughts and perfect verses; these pages held the dream of each soul that dared to tempt the fates and set sail with the ship.

I was among them. Unwavering in my pursuit and my existence, I walked upon the ship and placed my page. I glimpsed at the corridors. I wrestled with the rooms and caverns of the momentous ship, knowing every crevice, corner and empty space held pieces of paper. Stacked high to the ceiling in piles dusty and pages worn and torn, each written dream was a castaway of destiny.

Among its existence, the ship carried the lifetime of each castaway. For in one life, there is but one real dream and destiny to be realized. I was no different.

I glanced at the deserted beach. The once littered sands of castaways watching their destiny sail far away on an untouchable horizon dwindled over 30 years. The previous year when I turned 65, only a few of us remained. Today, I sat alone. I was the last one left. I waited for my turn.

My stumbling heart battled the next beat. I gasped the stifling heavy air laced with saltwater. My inhalation wasn’t by choice. It happened and I didn’t struggle. Glancing at the familiar shoreline, the noisy waves sought to disturb my focus. The view was exquisite but I didn’t care about the picturesque scene. I was fighting for my destiny.

“It’s mine,” I bellowed to no one.

I brushed the darkened mop, a heavy glop of greasy unwashed hair with hands drenched in leftover dirt. My appearance didn’t compromise my efforts. My bare feet shuffled across sands that drifted forever and hinted warmth. I begged myself to abandon hope.

My eyes betrayed me. Feverishly, they scanned the relentless water. In my hazy hello was an unwelcome sight I greeted each year. Completely out of physical reach but visible to my eyes was a glorious ship sailing on the horizon. Time had been kind to the ship. It hadn’t been kind to me. The ship possessed something I desperately wanted. It held captive a page of my life. I wanted that page. It was my destiny. It was a deceptive lack of judgment. I wouldn’t cease not without the page.

The majestic voyage dug into the water. I dug my chair into the sands of time. It was a repeat performance I both dreaded and relished each year. I danced with my worn out chair. The white faded plastic strips made it uncomfortable but I disrespected its authority.

Amused by the choppy waters, the ship gracefully pursued the endless supply of water. I stared at the horizon. The ship taunted me. It didn’t hold a care in the world, lazily it ensued no particular destination. I pursued my destiny without compromise or a safety net.

I stooped low and extended my lanky finger. Carefully, I estimated the shoreline and avoided the waters. I scribed my name in the sand, “Henry T.”

The surging object with white stately sails coursed the wind with relentless pursuit. I sat in the chair. I would wait to see the page float from the ship and cast itself upon the water.

Millions of destinies were held within the confines of that ship. I glanced upon the sight only once when I placed my page inside. But that was long ago.

The mere thought of what I witnessed inside the ship brought the saline from the sea straight out of my eyes. The burning memory rekindled my hope. The sound of victory was deafening in my ears and the sand castles glistening in my view transcended mental limitations and became towers.

My heart beat felt real, quickening its pace. I didn’t want to give up. I was the only castaway of destiny left. My ambition grew.

I pondered all the pages stacked high in the breathtaking ship. It occurred to me, some people had passed away along with the pages.

I lived my dreams even more than I chased them. If I were to bet on the ship or myself, I would bet on myself. Yet, year after year, when the page floated from the ship I knew someone would attain their destiny. Would it be my turn? I deliberated.

I pondered all the dreams and destinies denied. I wondered how many gave up or simply gave in. I recalled fresh faced youth. I counted both my blessings and small triumphs.

In my childish heart filled with dreams, I peered at the boat. In my wise mind, my older self deduced the ship was a bit like the lottery. When the page floated out, all your numbers came up and instantly you won. You didn’t have to fight or work for anything it was yours.

The mist encasing my nemesis obscured its view. I saw a mirror image of myself in the vapor threatening the ship sailing on the horizon. Inside of me was the same page the ship held captive. I spent a lifetime working for my dreams. It didn’t matter much what I wrote 30 years ago on a piece of paper. The dream was still inside me.

The ship held secrets and wonderment but the magic disappeared for me in an instant. I believed in myself. My destiny was within reach and I relished the challenge.

I got up from my chair and walked away from the ship sailing on the horizon. I was determined to follow my destiny and fulfill a life not based on fantasy but reality.

The waves behind me crashed into my feet and lashed at my body. It was an attack of sorts. I scrutinized my opponent and observed its reckless nature. My name scrawled into the sand vanished back into the sea with the rushing water.

I heard the rustling wind. I knew the page would float out from the ship.

I was determined to continue my own course despite the promise of the fates that dangled so often out of my reach.

I was tempted but I never looked back. In the years that followed, I never went back. The lesson of the page was finally complete. I would forge on. The ship remained a distant memory of a castaway destiny.