The days fall into place as she settled in to the new space.
The dog was a wonderful excuse to walk long distances,
down a rough red clay road, tropical trees lining each
side. The walks got longer each day, and she sped up the
pace to where they were going first one mile, then two…
Although the dog was older, he adapted quickly, and the
two of them worked towards strength and stamina.
In the afternoons she rested, the midday heat slowly
lightening with the trades blowing in.
Writing, reading, dozing. Very island time.
He was back on track now, after the stressful times, and
was making plans for his future, their future.
He tells her he wants to gain his Captain’s License, and
classes, though expensive, begin soon.
He’s getting excited about another future, one that
He makes for himself.
He’s on a roll this time, seeing the door opening, seeing a
Path with Dignity, an escape with his head held high.
He talks of the North, of the oil fields, the Tundra where
trees can’t grow, the perma frost, the Caribou.
He tells her about Bowhead whales that follow the ice,
and take 20 minute dives, and how Balooga whales
can turn their heads.
Of the Inupiat, who look to the ocean for the majority
of their food, the whole of their life.
He speaks of 12 foot thick ice, often for many square
miles, and what shorefast ice and sea ice are,
and how they’re different.
He tells her that Lemmings stay active all year round,
one of the only mammals to do so…
He is so fond of extremes, of challenges, of adventure,
and she wonders at his long held courage.
They shared the thought that in these times, it was
Get Your Shit Together Time for each, and he seemed
ready to face his emotional homework that he knows
he’s run away from all his life.
She meanwhile, faced her own demons, largely making
her own way, creating money out of nothing, and
remaining steadfast in their pledge to eachother.
The future looked brighter, and the meantime held
magic here…. and there as well, as his
magnificent clarity returned.