Rough water didn’t bother me in my younger years. I enjoyed being out on boats. I’d never felt scared out on the water. But like many other things in life, that changed with experience.
We were on the Alaska State ferry headed home on a 20-hour ride. During the night we had turned toward the west to head out to another community before making our way home. The channel to the west was wider, and faced open water. As we made our way out there in the dark of night the ride got rougher and rougher. Depending on our direction we were either taking the waves from the side, pitching from side to side with each wave, or bucking directly into the waves head-on. That particular night it didn’t really matter which direction we headed. The heavy waves caused the boat to shutter with each crashing descent into a trough.
The pitching of the boat, and the creaking and shuttering after each crashing wave, woke me up. I got out of bed and stood anxiously watching out the window. Straining to see anything in the dark. Thinking that if I could just see I’d feel safe. But all I saw was darkness, with whitecaps out across the water.
I could hear the wind whistling against the boat as I stood desperately looking out on the dark, stormy seas, with no sign of human life anywhere else out there.
I sat up the rest of the night keeping watch. Nervously looking out at the sea, wishing it to calm down. Waiting for us to make a turn, to cut into a narrowing channel, and get out of the wind. Waiting for us to make landfall, anything to block the winds so that the waters would settle down.
Landfall finally occurred early in the morning as we pulled into a channel closer to home. As we came up on the leeward side of an island, out of the wind, what had been a fierce wind-whipped sea instantly flattened out. And the rest of the ride home was peaceful. Remarkably peaceful in the wake of the earlier hours. Nothing in the weather had changed. Only our circumstances had changed. We had made landfall.
Since that night there have been countless times out on the water when I have anxiously looked for the nearest landfall. Knowing that it will break the wind and the waves, giving us a protected ride.
I’ll look out nervously across angry waters and tell myself it’s okay. Just ahead on the right. There’s an island. We just have to make it to that island and everything will smooth out. I’ll keep watch, my eyes on the island up ahead. Just have to make it to landfall. And with each crashing wave, each listing of the boat as it plows through another trough, we’ll be that much closer to peace and safety. As long as I can see landfall up ahead. Something to shoot for. Something to focus on. Knowing that it will get better as soon as we get there.
And over the years I’ve often heard that same sentiment from others. People trying to get themselves through the rough waters, eyes set on the landfall that they know is just up ahead. The anxiety is always right there in the eyes. And in the voice. That feeling of just hanging on. Bucking their way through rough seas.
“I just have to make it through this pregnancy, then I think it’ll be okay.”
“As soon as I get a job we’ll be okay. I’ll be able to pay the bills again and take care of my family.”
“Once the kids go back to school in the fall I think things will settle down for me again and I’ll get back into a routine. I’m just feeling out of control right now because there’s so much going on. But once the school year starts and we get into a schedule again things will settle down for me. I’ll be okay.”
“I just have to hang on until I can get to treatment. Once I can get into treatment I’ll be okay. I just need to get my life back. Need to beat this addiction. If I can just get to treatment I think I can start turning things around.”
“I need to get me and my kids away from him, away from the abuse. If I can just figure out how to get away from him. I don’t know. Maybe the women’s shelter? Someplace he can’t find us. Then we’ll be fine. I just gotta get away from him.”
They’ll stare off to the horizon while they talk. Their mind’s eye looking for landfall. Just up ahead. They can almost see it. Hanging on until they’re on the leeward side of something. Be it housing. Employment. Treatment. Predictable routines. Safety. Just gotta make it to landfall. Then the seas will flatten out, and the ride will be peaceful again. Things will smooth out. I know it will.
Just gotta make it to landfall. Just up ahead.
penniesonmypath 