Page 58 of That Birthday in Barbados
Hannah points to the back of the line, calls out a name, another, and another, and then turns toward me. “Catherine, would you like to help?”
I’m stunned into silence, and a wave of happiness sweeps over me, and I’m smiling like I’m in first grade, and the teacher hasasked me to be her special helper. I nod and say, “Thank you. I would love to.”
I look at Anders. He smiles and says, “Go for it.”
Hannah waves me over to her tray, and I drop down on my knees beside her. She glances at me and says, “The look in your eyes reminds me of how I felt when I first heardabout the plight of the sea turtles. You’re moved by them, aren’t you?”
I nod. “Yes. I am.”
She smiles at me, and says, “Okay, little guys, welcome to the world.”
She picks the first one up and sets it gently on the sand. “Go ahead, Catherine.”
I reach for one and set it down beside the other. The volunteers begin placing theirs on the sand, and all of a sudden, the hatchlings start forward, going as fast as their little legs will carry them, straight for the ocean in front of them. We continue placing the other hatchlings on the sand until the trays are empty, and what’s before us looks like a crowded highway of tiny turtle cars speeding for the water. I sit back on my heels,taking in the miracle before us.
Hannah glances at me, and asudden sadness crosses her face like a stray cloud over a blazing sun. In a low, soft voice, she says, “The odds are so against them. One in one thousand survive to reproductive adulthood.”
The words shock me, and I stare at her in disbelief. I turn my gaze to the baby turtles, struggling across the sand with a determination that makes my heart ache in my chest. Their desire to get where they know they’re supposed to be and the urgency in their efforts that says they know they must hurry makes me realize how for granted I have taken my own life and all that I have.
And all of a sudden, tears well in my eyes, streaming down my face in a rush of emotion so overwhelming I don’t bother to wipe them away. I want to feel this experience. For the past three years, I’ve been trying not to feel anything, putting my focus on the tasks of my day and plodding through. Not exactly running from life but idling in neutral.
Seeing how badly these little creatures want to live, find what they need to survive, I’m hit with a sudden desire to find mylife again, to run toward it with everything that has made me who I am. Standing here on this beach in a place I am beginning to love, I realize I’ve been considering my life over. Something to be ridden out, all the best parts in the past.
Anders walks forward, puts his hand on my elbow. Hesmiles as the first of the hatchlings find the water. We both watch as a small wave lifts them up, plants them firmly back on the sand. But they are not to be deterred. They struggle forward once more, so visibly convinced that they know where they belong. The voice inside them is that strong, that innate.
Anders’ arm slips around my shoulders. He pulls me in against him, and I hear the voice inside me. Is it really saying what I think it is saying? But there is no doubt. By any reasonable measure, I haven’t known him long enough, don’t have a log of days, weeks and months spent learning who he is. But my pull to him is as strong as the pull of the ocean to these magnificent little turtles. Just as real. Just as undeniable.
I lean my head against his chest, and I know he feels my acknowledgment in this single gesture. No words needed.
Chapter Twenty-five
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
?Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Catherine
IT’S DARK BY the time we reach Anders’ house.
He’s suggested we could make dinner there, and all I know is that I want to be with him, wherever that might be. I can’t even explain to myself exactly what I’m feeling. It’s almost as if a different person has taken over my mind and body. I have a hunger to experience things all but forgotten as a part of who I am. I used to be adventurous, curious about life and experiences.
Somewhere along the way, I started to believe life didn’t have much left to show me. How could I have thought I’d seen all there was to see? How could I have convinced myself that the end of my marriage was the end of me, the end of living my life?
I don’t really know how, but I convinced myself of that.
And now? Now, I feel ravenous for more. I feel like a person starved of vital nutrients, as if Anders has slipped a few in my drink, and my body is screaming for more.
We’re standing in the kitchen when this realization settles over me, and I am filled with the desire to thank him. But I think it will sound a little crazy if I put it into words, so I say, “Why don’t I cook dinner for you? It’s the least I can do given what you just showed me.”
“You cook?”
“I do.”
“I can probably scrounge up some pasta. I have basil growing on the terrace.”
“I happen to make a very mean pesto sauce.”
He claps his hands together. “All right then. Pasta’s in the cabinet there. I’ll go pick the basil.”
