Sunday, November 12, 2006


I dreamt I was back on the boat last night, as it was starting to sink. My husband was helping me into the rowboat, when he slipped and fell overboard. I dove in to try to find him, but it was dark and windy and raining, and I kept swimming around in circles and swimming around in circles, calling his name...

My husband and I had rented a sailboat so we could go sailing for a month in the gulf of Mexico, visit some of the small uninhabited islands (my dream) and go fishing (his dream). It was supposed to be a second honeymoon, (although technically, we never really went on a first honeymoon) but also it was supposed to be a fun adventure, rest and relaxation after the long illness and death of our daughter. It was supposed to bring us together, not separate us.

My husband was trying to get the rowboat untied when he fell overboard. In the dark and cold, with adrenaline rushing through him, he fumbled at the knots and instead of coming esily untied, they became hopelessly knotted. I had gone to get a knife to cut them, while he stayed to work at the knots. He leaned too far over and lost his grip on the slippery edge of the boat...

I slashed the ropes and dove in after him, but I never found him. He could not swim very well, and in those conditions it would have been even harder.

It has been two years now. I have been on this island, mostly alone, for two whole years. I have had lots of time to think. I have had lots of time to pray. I have had lots of time to be alone. I think I would not go back now. I have come to appreciate solitude.