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Journey
We have to swim to the island…
I plan a route, fill up a life raft, paddles, bring clean water, goggles, oxygen tank, air mask, and flippers.
You lie on your air mattress with a drink.
I offer you some supplies and you scoff and turn me away, why would you need those?
We start off, I glide through the water effortlessly and make great strides,
you float where you are and are oblivious to your stagnation
I offer you a paddle and you glare at me, why am I always trying to change you, your way works.
I twist and turn and somersault trying to not get so far ahead of you and you are ignorant of my efforts
You feel the setting sun, the soft breeze, and your disappearing drink
I decide to go at my own pace and progress leaps and bounds ahead of you
You chastize me for getting so far ahead.
You run out of water and plead your thirst. I give you a drink.
Your air mattress gets a hole from your carelessness and you start to sink.
You never bothered to learn to swim. You thought you'd float the whole way there.
I give you the life raft and paddles and I keep everything else.
You continue to float without paddling, secure in the effectiveness of your plan.
I swim ahead, away that darkness will arrive soon and the water will be freezing.
You never understand my need to get ahead, you think I go to fast, want it all, expect too much.
I just want to get to the island and you say we'll get there when you're ready.
You drink the rest of my water and hyperventilating from the darkness, you take my oxygen
Darkness falls, the water is bone-chilling and I grasp the life raft and propel us forward.
You wave me away, claiming I'm expecting you to move too fast and you're happy at your own pace.
You have drifted a fair way out so we are mid way between the shore and the island, if we don't choose a direction we'll freeze.
When I try to make a decision I'm trying to control you, when I ask you to make a choice you are happy where you are.
But we'll drown.
Pfft, won't happen, water is water, it was fine this afternoon. Besides I'm in the boat.
But the air will be cold.
Pfft, Ill be fine, the air was fine this morning.
I try again to decide on a route, go back or go forward. You adamantly insist on staying where you are.
Fine I say and start to swim off. You wail that I can't leave you behind, but you won't go.
You hold me close and, exhausted, I stay and shiver and shake and hate every minute of this cold stagnating stillness.
Your attention drifts, distracted by the stars and you release me
I give in to the empty soothing promise of the water below and let myself sink, deeper and deeper.
You try to grab me but cant reach me from the raft.
It doesn't occur to you to leave your comfortable perch, so you wail at the unfairness of life as my struggles cease. You yell at me that I should have tried harder to stay afloat, then you wonder why you haven't made it to the island yet. I took the paddles with me in my struggle and you're left oarless and alone.
Having learned nothing from my sacrifices, you decide it's too hard to think of a solution so you continue to watch the stars and drift. Eventually your eyes close and you miss the glaring lights of the search boat.
They eventually find your corpse bumping against the shore of the island. You made it in your own time, and that's what really matters.
