The Storm

As I tried to fall asleep last night, my thoughts turned, yet again, to the scary and uncertain times that we’re living in right now. In the moments that I really allow myself to stop and think about, I feel a bit overwhelmed by the unknowns of our unprecedented pandemic situation and the ‘What’s going to happen?’ and ‘How long will this last?’ of it all. Last night, I told myself, for the umpteenth time, that this is just a season. A storm that we have to weather. And then I was reminded of another storm that I once weathered. A time where I literally found myself in choppy and treacherous waters. And I survived. This storm will be no different.

In February 2017, we took a cruise of the Western Caribbean. On Day 3, our ship dropped anchor in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. We took tender boats across a large expanse of water to disembark on the island of Grand Cayman. Once there, we had the day to explore the island. We chose to take a trolley tour and spend some time on one of the most magnificent beaches I’ve ever seen. I’d love to go back someday.

When it was time to get back onto a tender boat to ferry back to our cruise ship, we were all exhausted. We sat down on the upper level of the tender boat and Pup climbed into my lap. I marveled at how wonderful the breeze and sun felt as my sweet boy lowered his head and fell asleep. At just 5 years old, he was still napping as needed, so I was happy to give him this chance to rest and recharge before getting back to the nonstop action aboard the cruise ship. He fell so soundly asleep that by the time we got back to the ship and were told to disembark the tender boat, I was hesitant to wake him. I told Handsome Pants that I’d take another ride on the tender boat, from the cruise ship to the island and back again. I figured, ‘Why not?’ The sun was shining, the breeze felt wonderful and we had a boy who needed the sleep. So I sent HP and Blu back onto the ship and told them I’d meet them at the pool with Pup in a little bit.

We ferried back to the island, picked up more passengers and still, my boy snoozed. A lovely group of Spanish nuns got on at that pickup and sat down next to me. They were so sweet despite our language barrier. They each took a turn placing a hand on my son’s back and praying for him while he slept. I remember thinking it was nice, but also felt a little uneasy and I couldn’t put my finger on why.

Moments later, I found out ‘why’ in a harrowing way. Seemingly out of nowhere, clouds rolled in. The sky grew so dark, so quickly. The water came alive in a way that I’d never seen before. Our tender boat was rocking and water was splashing high enough in the air to drench us. The commotion woke Pup and the fear in his eyes will stay with me forever. How was I going to protect this boy if we capsized? How would I ever explain it to my husband if something went wrong? I held him so tightly as the boat bounced and swayed. Could I hold on tightly enough?

A voice came on overhead. Instructions to get down on the floor in the center of the boat were given, and life vests were handed out. For some reason, they didn’t have children’s vests, so I clipped my boy into my own. I could hardly breathe, partly out of fear and partly from constriction from the vest. And there we sat, as the boat bobbed and jostled. The nuns started praying furiously on rosaries that they produced from their bags and I prayed, too. Over and over again.

The storm passed and the water settled enough that we started moving again. As we approached the cruise ship the water was still active enough that we bounced off. Once. Twice. Three times. It was so loud and the impact sent everyone into a panic. I’ve never seen so many grown people crying at the same time.

On the fourth try, the crew aboard the cruise ship was able to successfully tether us. With the boat still heaving, they told us we needed to crouch down to cross the gangway. This meant I’d have to let Pup walk alone, they said. I refused, and didn’t put him down. Amid glares and scowls from the crew, I carried my son off the doomed tender boat and onto a larger, safer vessel. And then I broke down in tears with about 50 other people, right there in the customs section of the cruise ship.

Once composed, I made my way to the pool deck. HP was surprised by how long it took for us to get there, and even more shocked as I told him what had happened. I ordered two drinks at the bar and vowed to never get onto a tender boat again. And so far, I’ve made good on that promise, but oh, how I’d love to see that George Town beach again...

Handsome Pants took this photo just before leaving the tender boat. It’s probably a good thing there aren’t any photos of me during the ordeal that shortly followed. But as I always say, these stories are all part of a life well-lived. We were blessed to have the opportunity to go on that cruise and see new things. And the drama, while unwelcome, was certainly part of it.

Maybe this pandemic is our storm and our day-to-day lives that we all miss so much is that cruise ship. Maybe we all need this storm to make us truly appreciate the opportunities that await us once we find our way back aboard. And maybe we all should impose a two drink minimum when the going gets tough.

A toast to happier times ahead, my friends.💕