Note: The below is a bit…well, it’s a bit of a downer. And I’m sorry for that. That’s why I spun it out in short story form. It *has* been exaggerated as a result. We really are all safe, we’re all fine. Some days are just stranger than others…this is one of them.
*~*~*~*~*~
They were safe, she kept reminding herself. Not stuck. Safe. One word could change your outlook. One word could change everything.
Safe. Not stuck.
All safe. All healthy. Not in one of the multiple other situations where things could be much much worse. Be grateful, you’re lucky, people on land would probably prefer to be where you are now. She kept repeating it, but it was one of those days where the words sounded hollow.
She hugged her arms around her knees and stared out at the water. The same water that she had been looking at for the last 9 days. The same ships, the same wave patterns. It was even the same temperature. There was a world out there, somewhere. A world where her loved ones were frightened, and strong, and alone and isolated and careful and foolish and heaven knows what else. There was a world out there…
At least she was pretty sure there was.
“You’ve chosen a wonderful prison. But it is a prison none the less. And gypsies don’t do well inside stone walls”
The phrase kept bouncing around in her head. She had never thought she could feel trapped in a space that was intended to hold at least a thousand people more than it did now. There were 600 of them, rattling around in this ship like gumballs in a half-empty machine. 600 people all alone together. The last time they’d set foot on land was two weeks ago. Things had been so different then. Cautious yes, careful, but not like this. Never like this. She could look in the mirror and try to find the carefree woman who had laid on a lounger in Barbados and find not much trace of her. She was pretty sure that girl had run for cover when home started to close its borders.
She wondered if the rest of the world even remembered that they were here at all. And if they did, if they realized what it was actually like. She kept trying to explain it to people, to explain it to herself – yes, this was a luxurious place to be trapped, but it didn’t change the fact that you were trapped. Yes, there was a pool, there was a hot tub, there were bars and activities and hey she was pretty sure she even stood a chance at placing in the onboard photography contest – mostly because at the moment she was the only one who had entered. No one seemed to even have any energy to choose a picture to submit. If she won, that would at least give her and her husband a night in a better cabin. Maybe even one with a window. But it didn’t change the facts…and the facts were that she was surrounded by 599 scared and stressed people who didn’t know if there was a home out there waiting for them, and had no idea how or when to get it if there was. It didn’t change the sick spouses or the frightened families or the constant not knowing what was happening to them. It didn’t change the fact that she worked for an industry that it felt like half the world had turned against and that she didn’t know if that was going to stop her family from getting across her own border. It didn’t change the fact that if so much as one of them developed even a sniffle, their whole situation could change.
She tried to imagine being locked into their comparatively tiny cabin, unable to leave, unable to even see outside. She couldn’t even picture that.
Even mealtimes had become strange: each department allotted a half-hour slot to eat together, and only two people allowed at a table. No sitting with groups of friends – even though they were all healthy – no eating with friends from other departments.
She tried to remember when she’d slept properly last and found that she couldn’t. The last time she’d tasted food properly (without the vast amounts of salt that seemed to coat everything onboard at least) and found she couldn’t really remember that either.
Only 9 days, and it felt like they’d been out here for a month.
Scared to stay, scared to leave. More just…scared of everything. Scared of the world making no sense. Scared that her friends wouldn’t get home. Scared that there wouldn’t even be a home to get to. That nothing would ever be the same, ever.
Was this how it was supposed to end up? You work all this time to get a plan in place, to make up for past misjudgements and mistakes, you finally get a plan in place that works…and then it’s Mother Nature that tosses you on your back and stomps on you?
She took a deep breath and turned away from the window. Trying to remind herself that everyone in the world felt this way now. Everyone in the world was scared and stressed. That was the new normal. She tried to remind herself of all the random acts of kindness she saw every day. All the good that was coming out of this terror…
But she was just too tired to focus on much of anything…
So instead she picked up a needle, and watched as the coloured thread pulled through the cream of the cloth pattern. At least this was something she could do.
“Grab a Needle, grab a thimble if that’s all that keeps you sane…”