Passage II

A Gift of the Ocean

I often give Barbara, a friend of mine, rides to the airport, however on her most recent trip, she knew that the 5: 00 A. M. departure and midnight return times were inconvenient and asked a lot of our friendship. So when I picked her up from her trip to San Diego, she gave me a thank-you gift—a plastic packet of ocean. Knowing how much I miss the coast; now that I live far from it, she informed me that this was my own piece of the ocean.

The souvenir is just a plastic rectangular packet that measures two inches by four inches. The water inside is colored an artificial blue and contains a red rubber fish whom swims upside down. But there is genuine sand inside and a tiny pair of real shells. My friend knew that this miniature ocean would inspire me.

When I hold it up to the light, I can imagine scenes from my past.(20) I can see black-backed dolphins arching across the oceans surface, in the sunrise, just beyond my brother, who is fishing. The tide has retreated, beaching various sea creatures after a stormy night—an upturned horseshoe crab and a marooned jellyfish with its still dangerous tentacles. When I press the plastic packet of ocean, I feel the grit of sand and imagine it beneath my feet. I can imagine it clasping my calves, making them look like a sand sculpture.

Sometimes in the evening, I hold the packet and remember the ocean at night. (24) Out on the pier, where fishing rods hang over the edge of the planks. Babies are bundled against the chill of a damp night as their parents fish, waiting for a run of bluefish, sometimes pulling in a rockfish, it's mouth blinking like an eye. When the bluefish do run, everyone prepares to reel in these fierce fighters, aware that a one-pound bluefish can pull at the line like crazy.

I instead keep the ocean souvenir on my desk by my computer. On days when a harsh winter wind blows, I hold the plastic packet up to the light and dream of warm sand and a sun-drenched sea.