Whale Watching

There are times in my life when I feel as though I cannot surpass an obstacle in my way.  Every year there is at least one time that the demands of life seem to be overpowering.  But luckily, I can revisit the day I went whale watching two years ago, and remember that life will go on if I push through it.

The last time my family traveled to Boston, the weather was not so agreeable with our plans.  We had arranged to go whale watching, but that morning, the sky was a deep red; it resembled the color of the freshly fallen autumn leafs.  My Papa used to say a rhythm to me when I was younger.  He would begin with a smile on his face that would warm my heart while I giggled; “Red at night, sailors delight”.  But he would say the end of the rhythm with a serious tone and a straight face.  “Red in morning, sailors take warning.”

There was an eerie fog as we journeyed out to the deep sea.  The water was black and empty, the wind was strong and cold; I was being sprayed by the crashing waves that collided with the boat.  I could barely see beyond five feet from the edge of the railing, and I had every belief that my chances of encountering a whale that morning were small.  The sea was dead; the only movements were from the waves that made my balance falter.

I found myself staring into the wall of fog that blocked my hopes of seeing anything.  There was no escaping this weather.  I could not reach the stairs without falling to my knees.  The heavy air made me feel claustrophobic.  There was no width or length to the area that I was in but it felt like the grayness that surrounded me was slowly devouring my whole being.

The boat floated out at sea for an hour and there were no signs of the massive beasts.  But suddenly, a smooth creature appeared in the distance.  First there was one, then another emerged from the dark waters and another shot water from its blow hole just a few feet away; my perched body, stood as close to the edge as physically possible.  I felt like a child, my eyes grew wide and my heart was racing.  Then the whales appeared.

Just the sight of the gigantic creatures was comforting; there was life beyond the foggy barrier.  I watched as the whales moved gracefully, gliding through the water.  Their eyes were gleaming, their skin looked like silk, wet from the salty ocean water, and their flippers moved freely.  There was so much life. 

The second I witnessed the whales breaching the ocean waters, I blocked out everything that had been making me upset before; they seemed to just vanish into thin air.  I no longer paid attention to the sprinkle of water upon my face from the waves that collided with the ship or the wind that chapped my face.  The fog appeared to disperse as the whales broke down the wall that had been enclosing me. 

I now use that day in Boston Harbor, to overcome the walls in my life.  I know that just like when the boat reached shore and encountered a rainbow that hovered over the dock, there would be a time when I made it passed the obstacle I was currently facing.  I had made it out of the fog once, and I knew I could do it again.