Barren

I knew of a cave in the center of the island, not too far away from my little hut. Curious about it for weeks, I finally decided to explore it. I slowly ventured into the mouth of the cave and observed a bear, sleeping contently. It seemed friendly but I couldn't help but worry I'd wake him. I had so many questions about this cave and how deep it is. "Where are the rest of the bears?" I thought, looking around and noticing that perhaps this bear doesn't have any other bear to share a cave with or baby bears to care for. The bear rustled, startling me, so I left the cave, wary of my own well-being.

Fishing was the best thing I could do for myself, and this brought on plenty of memories from my smaller home. My father was the one who taught me to fish and took me on a boat when I was a smaller girl. Usually in the early break of dawn, we would bring our own sandwiches and cokes with a container of worms and some store bought poles. This time I'd have to make my own pole from what I could find. Somehow I managed to put the parts together and stick my line into the ocean with a homemade sinker. It wasn't the most fun, as it took a long time before I'd come up with a fish, but the first fish was certainly the tastiest from what little of it I actually got to eat. I had set my fish into a basket of leaves and twine only to find some wild animals had claimed it for themselves.

That morning I was left hungry, but there was nothing I could do but set out my own fish for the wild animals to take, so that they would leave the rest of my food alone. It was comparable to an offering or payment to a landlord. I suppose feeding a wild animal continuously is never a good idea, and I knew this at the time but had no other choice. The animals were territorial and I needed a place to call my own.

The Beginning

There was once a time when I lived in a smaller city with smaller buildings and smaller people. I also loved once and blindly followed that love to a place by the sea. My love never left me but my object of affection was no longer there, leaving me in a damp, dark, depressing place where I refused to drown.

Often, I writhed on the beach in pain, wishing my love's love would return but it never did and I ultimately became sucked into the ocean. Fighting with waves and wind. Reaching for something to hold onto, to save me; hoping there would be a magical God to grab my pathetic hands and pull me out of the angry water and onto dry land, and eventually there was. I soon washed up on a beach, coughing up water and attempting to stand again. Opening my eyes, I saw nothing but sand and jungle. My eyes were stinging and my very core was scared… and lonely. I was alone. There were so many nights where I couldn't sleep with the rustling and the paranoid feeling that something was watching me. There was something unnerving about this place but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Some mornings I left my comfort place built of sticks and sand underneath a few tress by the beach I'd washed up on, and I'd find new fruits, animals, and plants. I became more sure that I'd be able to keep myself alive by discovering what was behind large leaves and understanding my own limits and what I can handle.

Even though I found my island to be my new home, I couldn't help but remember the place by the sea. I speculated whether or not I'd ever find my way back or if my object of affection would find his love and swim through the vast sea to take me away from my new home. I wondered if he would throw me a bottle with poems and promises. I waited for it. I sat on the beach daily looking out at the water & hoping to find a glint of light reflecting on a glass bottle with my dreams inside. It never came, and I stopped looking.