Windows fog as I peer out into the darkness. Shadows move across snow-covered rooftops and the moon disappears behind clouds. A light snow falls, blanketing the muddy streets below. I can hear the ebbing tide in the distance, rolling back out to unknown depths. It’s a relaxing break from the relentless storms that have hammered the town for the last two weeks.
I wasn’t prepared for any of it.
Arctic winds pushed down from the north and coated our boats with thick layers of ice. Work was impossible. We took turns huddling next to the exhaust from the ship to warm frozen hands. During one of the worst days, we lost contact with our neighbor Einar who was fishing to the north. He and his daughter are still missing. A few relatives hold out hope, but I can’t imagine they could still be alive. He was in his 50s and his daughter was a little older than Aldan.
I tried talking to Aldan about it, but he hasn’t said much. I don’t think they were close, but it still must be difficult to lose a peer. I never made an effort to know them. It’s something I’ve thought about since they’ve disappeared. I remember seeing them through the window in the summer time. They’d be outside sitting on the porch, warming themselves in the evening sun. They looked happy. It wasn’t what I expected from a teenage girl and her father. I figured those years would be fraught with contention.
Isolation is hard, but it’s fascinating to see how some people grow from it, while others lose their way. I don’t quite know where I fit in, but I hold out hope for a time when I can look back and appreciate my struggles. Despite everything, there is a small part of me that envies Einar’s death. He won’t know the weight that a parent feels when they've lost their child. I live every day knowing my loss, and it hurts. It will always hurt. I will turn to dust and the pain will continue.
Three different parties scoured the ocean for days, searching for the lost ship. Each night, they returned with nothing new to report. It wasn’t until a few days ago that someone found the lost vessel washed up on shore to the north. The town council sent some of the younger kids out on horseback to bring back whatever they could. They’ve been out at least five times, gathering wood, engine parts, scraps of sail. The oldest member of the group thinks it’ll be another week before they’re finished.
The yacht that we found sits half submerged in the icy waters a few hundred meters from the harbor. Everything useful was stripped by the time the storm hit, thanks to the efforts of Halla and a handful of others. Now it’s a reminder of what our future might hold. An omen that we pass in silence.
Weeks ago Finnr expressed interest in returning to the boat. Toward the end of the storm, we arrived at the dock to find him loading it by himself. This was the Finnr that I knew. Silent and unyielding. I looked over to Aldan and saw a slight smile flash across his face. Without saying a word, we fell in line and picked up where we left off. After a couple days, it felt a bit crowded, so I asked to work back on land for a while, at least for a few weeks. Finnr and Aldan agreed, but I could tell Aldan was hurt. He didn’t try to hide it, which made it even worse.
After speaking with the town council, Anna and I decided to fix up Einar’s house, which now sits vacant. There is still work, but with Halla’s help, we should be able to finish it by the end of the year.
When Anna and I first walked in, our footsteps echoed on the wooden floors. The tables and chairs were rudimentary, but the roof didn’t leak, which was important. The stillness inside filled with memories of a forgotten past. It smelled like earth. I thought about Einar and his daughter huddling around a single candle. Eating what little food they had. Light forced its way through opaque windows, illuminating our breath as we exhaled. We stood in silence. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, her head nestled against mine. I cried. It wasn’t the nicest house in town, but it would do.