Some time ago, against my better judgment, I reluctantly agreed to join friends on a cruise.
I was lonely since Harold left me. Perhaps this, my first trip without him, would break the ice and I would not be afraid to travel alone.
Not only am I claustrophobic and have motion sickness, I am also deathly afraid of the ocean. We had spent several summers at the Jersey shore and have been through a number of hurricanes. I am afraid of the power of the ocean. However, armed with an anti-nausea patch, I was soon caught up in the excitement of leaving port and heading toward the open water. How vast it was, this ocean, and a little frightening to know that this vessel I was standing on was the only thing between me and it’s depths.
Before I realized it, I, too, was caught up in the frenzy of cruising, and compelled to eat, eat, eat, and have fun, fun, fun. After two days of this exhausting routine, I excused myself from joining my friends to go to a noisy disco. I needed time to slow down and took a stroll on the deck. How peaceful it was , away from the lights and noise. I came up on a small sheltered nook, and leaning against the railing, gazed out over the water.
It was a very calm, quiet night, and gradually I felt myself relaxing and tension leaving me. As I gazed ahead, I realized there was no horizon and the black sea and black sky melted into each other to form this huge black void.
It was very still, not a ripple on the water. No sound, no light, except this deep ebony void ahead of me. I continued to gaze into nothing. What was out there? I had this strange need to find out; I felt weightless, as if I was floating. Why did I feel this strange pull to let go? To allow myself to fly into space and see what was on the other side of this darkness? I wanted this soft, black velvet to enfold me and carry me off. To where? I was spellbound!!
I do not know how long I stood there in this trance. Gradually I became aware of leaning far over the railing, staring down into the black depths of the water. My arms ached and my fingers and hands were stiff and taut from grasping the railing. Very, very, slowly I loosened my fingers and slid down until I was sitting on the deck. I inched my way back to where I could feel the solid wall behind me, and I leaned, gratefully, into it. I was very disoriented and it took some time before I became aware of my surroundings.
After a while, I got up and with my eyes DOWN on the deck I slowly walked away from the darkness into the bright lights, laughter, and loud disco music.
I shall never go on another cruise. If I do, I may never come back!!!
Anne Humbach 3/07
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