02.16.2013 - 02.16.2013
A light depression descends, falling like soft rain. The cruise is nearly over, and, like everything we do, it has become our whole life; the thought of "after" resides in a place of fear and darkness. Quickly we ink it out.
Instead we recall the fat little penguins that swam with us today. Each time they passed us they kicked around our faces for a bit before casually flapping away into the deep where we could not follow. Yesterday one even left a smear of white droppings in front of Chris. When we have exhausted that memory we turn to the sting rays we saw from the boat, somersaulting in the air--why? for sheer joy? One, two, three flips, and then they would disappear, their white undersides still flashing in our brains. It is a sign of how spoiled we are that even these acrobatic sting rays eventually seemed commonplace. (Not truly, though. I was excited each time--just not as surprised.)
Let us not count the days left and just pretend it will last forever.