The sailboat rocked gently in the waves lapping at its sides. Tightly moored to the aged dock, it would not be swept away any time soon. The accumulated tools and trinkets within the boat’s hull hinted at a storied life; it had seen more of the world than many would in a lifetime. The captain of said boat stood after tying the final knot on the old ropes anchoring them to the island.
The island was a shadow glittering on the horizon when she spotted it, the first land sighting in nearly a week. Her provisions from the previous stop – cans of beans and sardines, stale saltine crackers, pouches of water, cookies, and dried fruits – were starting to look meagre. Though scarcity was nothing new to her, the prospect of solid ground beneath her feet and fresh food for a change drew her to set a course for the distant speck. Hours later, a beach and tall palm trees stretched before her.
The palms swayed lazily in the ocean breeze. She removed her worn shoes and stepped onto the beach sparkling in the afternoon sun. The dock decaying into the waves was the only evidence that she was not the first to do so. She dug her toes in deep and the sand held her feet in a warm embrace. Her body felt heavy and, realizing how tired she was, she lay down and watched seagulls fly in wide arcs above her.
As she watched, a thought emerged at the edge of her mind and soon pushed its way to the center: What if I stay here? It was not the first time the question had come to her over the years, but every time she had pushed it aside. This time however, lulled by the warmth of the sand, she let the question stretch freely in her mind. Could she stay here? She could build a shelter out of palms and their wide leaves, she could sit on the dock and catch all manner of fish, and she could climb the trees for their refreshing fruit. The seagulls could keep her company and their song could be her music. She could watch the sun dip into the ocean each and every evening. This could be home.
She closed her eyes and lay there on the sand for hours, a new life playing out just beneath her eyelids.
Stars dotted the still sea like pinpricks in a black fabric, the moon a shining disk. The captain sat at the stern of her boat looking out at the water. She never tired of the sight.
Though her wrists ached more than they once did and her hair had grown as white as the moon itself many moons ago, the ocean still held such endless wonder. It had called to a restless young woman and now, so many years later, it still held her firmly, like a fly caught in a spider’s web. The place she once called home and the life that came with it had become mere shadows in the mist of her memory. The open sea was all she knew now.
She could build a new life for herself on the island, a pleasant one at that. But deep within she knew the call was irresisitible. Eventually the ebb and flow of the waves would sing to her again. Were it not for her boat, she would surely follow their song and wade into the sea, disappearing into its depths. This was her fate, both blessing and curse.
Tall shadows against the darkness, the swaying palm trees had blessed her with a bounty of coconuts. The fruits would sustain her for a little while. The captain closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the cool air stinging her nostrils. Untying the final knot that held her boat, she pushed off with a practiced hand. The quiet sea was soon punctuated by the rhythm of oars.
She watched her little haven slowly vanish into the stars until it was gone. All that remained was the old captain, her sailboat, and the vast ocean beneath them. She was home.