She's out there, hiding in the darkness, the pilot boat gives her away, the river road of pilot boats, tugs, tankers and cargo. The lights in the distant, lined up waiting to turn themselves over to the harbor captain, making their way into Corpus Christi Bay.
I imagine for some, its a life of adventure, for others the only one they have ever know. A new port from time to time, but for most of the days, miles of empty ocean. I imagine the men an women, those who choose or found this way of life, are a different breed. I realize, as I struggle with my own issues of loneliness, that it might be an amazing journey, yet at some point, it would soon settle in, that it's a job I could never do, the isolation would kill me.
I sit on the jetty and imagine the decks below, bunk beds, dim florescent lights, a man laying on his side reading a novel of one sort or another, below another writing a loved one in some far away place, somewhere he calls home. The large majority of the men that crew these foreign flagged ships, are from countries around the world. Approaching the site of land, passing through the channel, watching from the desk, families fishing, lounging in their nylon portable chairs. Children running and laughing, lovers holding hands. I wonder what they think, as they all come from different cultures and world views. Its true you know, we make the poor assumption that people around the world think alike, but this is certainly not true.
My imagination tells me they are from a third world country, treated harsh, paid poorly. If and when the time comes, they are allowed to leave the ship (Most are not allowed off, as they do not have visas in order to step onto US Soil), they take a majority of their earnings, and send them back home. Supporting their loved ones, Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, Brothers, Cousins, Sons and Daughters. The ones they love, that if they are lucky, will see but a few times a year. I imagine there are phone calls allowed on occasion, a bank of workstations in which to write emails home, an allotted free time, where they might even pre arrange a visit using video conferencing services. Though just voices on the line, faces on a flat LCD screen, but no ear in which to whisper or bodies to hug and hold.
No, I don't think I would be able to survive, my skin is too thin. Perhaps when I was a younger, much angrier, little boy who hid behind thick walls of concrete and stone, but in being torn down to raw emotion, certainly it would be the job I would never survive.
After more than a year, if I've learned anything, it's that I am not who I thought I was, nor as strong and invincible. I've come to realize I provide shelter to many of the demons of my past, things I cannot let go. I've learned just how broken I am, and often wonder how much longer I can go on. I'm told that it's selfish, thinking such things, yet the words sound hollow, hearing the sounds of life going around in the background. I want to live, but I this is no life, the hardest part is I don't know what life is supposed to look like, and I cant find it in myself to settle into mediocre. I cant find the joy in Monday Night Football or the tales told over the counter of a bar. There has to be something more, I just cant seem to find a way to get there, and know if things continue as they are, I will certainly have no choice, my only way to move on will be to go on, to that land of no return.
Its a heck of a thing when you wake up one day to find the life you've lead has all been a big lie. That you played the role of victim, rather than actor or director in the play of your own life. That you sold your soul out of fear of loosing another, and lost yourself along the way. In the end I can only conclude, is this road I must go down alone, everyone leaves in the end.
Thinker skin, build walls, put it away in a box, let it go, live in today, fake it until you make it. I would give little I have left, that I could learn to love, trust and live, and burn the stacks of court papers, legal bills, medical records, and forget the name of the person who selfishly continues to live on the happiness they must get in the every chance they get, in taking away any little thing I might have left. I stopped being the victim, straightened out my behavior, and have desperately hung onto the high road, and continue to turn the other cheek. Perhaps it take my having to truly lost everything, before I discover where to go from here.
"In the end, Gods plan is a good one, and if things are not good, then it's not the end"
