On Fairer Tides

The ocean is a brutal mistress. On such a day as this, she forces my hand. She calls me forth whilst pushing me away. A floating mammoth of sails and wooden beams stands proudly before me. Salty foam licking at its bow, desperate to taste the ship once more. A cool ocean breeze whisks off the canvas and causes it to flutter excitedly high above. For years, I imagined being on a foreign shore. I longed to be a noble explorer in far-off lands. I imagined building a new life following the path of the winds. I pictured the spray in my hair and adventure abundant. At the cusp of a year’s wait and a harsh winter, the dream can be mine.

I am rooted to the ground with a pit as dense as the ocean deep. A hustle of carts bound up the plank boards into the hull of the ship. Throngs of passengers make their way across the dock quickly. Excitement hangs in the air and dances with the sunlight. Yet, my body cannot match it.

Mother wanted me to go. She wanted me to take the ship to a new life before our money ran out. She begged me to write sheets and sheets to her so she may feel the ocean’s grip as ardently as me. Mother’s eyes filled with tears as she gripped my hands in hers. My how the tears on her cheek resemble the ocean’s kiss on a stormy day. God shouldn’t want me to choose. He shouldn’t ask her to suffer and forget her dream. He shouldn’t tell me to find a path without her.

The waves beat softly against the stones near my feet. Their deep blues fade into the dark reflection of the hull. The figurehead shifts slowly, the waters caressing her face. The maiden has flowers in her hair and a yearning gaze. I glance upward at her mighty form on the bow. She bathes in the sunlight. Adventure calls to her. She can feel the wind on her face. She is only looking forward.

“God never puts more on us than we can handle.” Mother’s words echo in my mind. Her frail form stares up at me from the bed. She’d been bedridden for weeks and the doctors said it would be a permanent malady. God was forcing a path on her, but giving me a choice. She will need care. She will need company in her dying years. In her dreams and mine, we would sail across the world. We would leave these barren shores for quests new and bold. We would test God’s will and beat back every spraying storm. We would discover fate’s calling together, as family should. The journey would be long but it would be mighty.

The busy harbor slows. The mooring ropes are untied. The vessel floats away from me. The masts are creaking steadily in the growing wind. The deck carries many passengers. A little girl and her parents wave out toward the shore. Her smile beams brightly as her body sways back and forth with her arm. What will those little eyes see?

In my youth, mother and I would walk along the shores. We would collect sea shells and wonder aloud where they came from. We would wonder what creatures of the deep spit them out so that we may enjoy them on land. How had God known that we would be the ones to lay our nimble fingers across their spiraled ridges? We would laugh at the crashing waves and dare them for more. We would play in the sand and build kingdoms on the beach. God never dared us to question why.

The ship leaps past the outer arms of the harbor walls. Its stern meets the deeper channel with fervor. The bowsprit dances in the salty brine. The maiden greets the familiar adventure before her. The scant few left on deck are facing forward, as if they know the earth behind them is not as important as the waves before them.

This is the choice we all must make in life. This is what God knows I can handle when I do not know for certain myself. While God laid the paths before me, I must be the one to choose. And that I have.

The ship nears the horizon now. A mere blip on the span of blue. As the masts disappear where the sky meets the sea, I take a deep breath in. The ocean is a clever mistress. While her waters vast and her temper wild, her waves always meet back at the shore. I turn around and face the earth that birthed me. A small spiral of white peaks out between slats in the wooden dock. I pick it up and smile. The grooves are just as I remember. Mother will love this.