Lifeboat - Help.com

Lifeboat

Things were different when we were in the water. You were a bubbly center of warmth and spread heat over my stiff and frozen body. It made me feel better, but, in retrospect, was just covering up the truth that I so desperately needed. And, as they say in the biz, “the truth will set you free.” Ironically I haven’t a clue which business uses that phrase, but in the business of you and me it’s definitely not me so it must be you. So the water was rising around me and you and soon I began to realize that this was not really like the eight grade pool party where the pretty lifeguards would dive in and save you like in The Sandlot. Not that either of us knew what pretty was besides the pictures on the Time magazines. All I knew was that we were drowning, but that was okay because I was still warm and you were still happy. To occupy the time I often imagined what it would be like to have a fear of swimming. I didn’t really notice that our noses were barley above the water until the lifeboat came and asked if we needed help. You could imagine it like using a life line but instead of losing the $16,000 you are losing your life, Mister Philbin. So after looking over the chipping white paint and black stencil lettered, “Minnow,” on the side of the ship I concluded that it was safe to board and climbed on with a boy scout gusto rarely found. The floor seemed so nice. I didn’t think it over very long at the time but when I think about it now, anything must have looked better than the endless blue around me. Once the familiar warmth left, I remember turning around and wondering why you weren’t getting on the boat. Your entire head was submerged and your eyes still fixed on mine, but you didn’t swim over. This was all very strange to me of course, so asking the deckhands what was going on seemed like a good idea, but, as I know now, boats at sea do not carry any crew. So, finding no one I went back to the edge of the craft and stuck my hand out. I probably would have found it amusing that sticking your hand out is now a legal offense in twelve states. Anyway, you were in reach, but I was lazy and wanted you to come aboard. Nothing seemed to happen. Those eyes I didn’t understand just stayed frozen while the world bobbed up and down around them. I waited for you to grab on, palm open. I waited, and waited, and waited. I waited longer than it took my parents to set up a game of Monopoly. I even kept my hand stretched out as the engine snapped on. I could have saved you. I could have reached out and pulled you up. I should have. But I didn’t. And so the boat sailed away, off to - whereverland - leaving you in the cold, sinking slowly into the blue. I don’t think I cried then, but I find that I often do now. You might think that what I did was selfish, and you might be true. But believe me when I say my open hand forever stays with your concrete eyes.

~ Just trying something a little different. I grew a bit fond of the detachment in the tone. :-)

This open post was written 9 months, 2 weeks ago | V/U/S: 194, 6, 3 | Edit Post | Leave a reply | Report Post

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