The Island Assignment

When she received her oceanography degree two years ago, she imagined great adventures on the high-seas aboard hulking ships and state-of-the-art instruments, surrounded by a bustling team that worked toward one Nobel-worthy scientific goal. What she did not imagine was being assigned to a remote island, by herself, with an outhouse, a temperamental satellite phone and a lined spiral notebook for her tide-pool journal entries.

The rusty troller lumbered through the waves at the pace of a weary old man pushing his walker. After two long, slow hours, the tiny island appeared just off the port side at eleven o'clock. The three deckhands readied the tender boat, loading her toted supplies and winching it down into the water. She slung her backpack onto her shoulders, and with two bulging duffels in each hand, she teetered to the side of the boat, where rough, calloused hands helped her into the small transport boat.

After a few short minutes of skipping over the waves, boxes, tote bags, and cases of canned goods were carefully unloaded onto the beach with very few words. She learned early on that sailors saved their words for only the things of most importance.

"I'll help ya with the heavy totes." one offered.

But she smiled warmly and said, "Thank you, but I'd rather move everything inside at my own pace. Besides, there's no need to hurry since the tide is still going out."

He nodded in respectful agreement, and as his rubbered feet pushed off from shore, he turned back one last time and said, "I'll be seeing you in three months."

She nodded in agreement and noted, once again, only the bare necessity of words.

With her back to the water and hands on her hips, she looked at the weathered, shuttered building and smiled. With only the gulls above to hear her, she said out loud, "Ok, let's make the most of this!"

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[photograph by me - story is fictional]

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