I’m on a precipice looking out across a landscape that has become my home. My hand trembles as I attempt to describe the immeasurable beauty that surrounds me. No words I can think of could ever do it justice. It’s like a painting that exists only in dreams. A masterpiece that even the most skilled artists could never recreate. It’s a façade. An eternity of cascading waterfalls and rolling green hills is meaningless when you’re alone.
Dappled light filters through the waist-high grass as I lay prostrate. My tears fall to the earth, giving life to the wildflowers that have become my own prison. With each passing day, the weight of the world nudges me toward a point of no return.
Something has to give.
About a month ago, I came off the ocean as the sun was setting. The whole sky was afire with brilliant orange and red hues. I stumbled back to the house and grabbed a bite to eat. I sat outside watching stars appear in the midnight blue that followed. I closed my eyes, listening to the silence. My mind drifted off toward thoughts of home. Nightly walks with Oki and Azami. Playing in the park. Visiting family. At some point, my thoughts shifted toward Anna, but I couldn’t trace back how I got there. We had been spending time together almost every day, so It didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me is the guilt that usually accompanied her never came.
A fly buzzed around my head pulling me back to reality. I flailed my hands about but it dodged them. I felt mocked as it landed on my hand long enough to sink its mandibles into my flesh. The pain was more than I anticipated from such a small insect. I smashed it against my skin and walked inside. When I was doing research on Iceland, I read that the black flies are a nasty breed. They arrive sometime in June and only stay a week or two. I figured that since June and July had passed without incident, we dodged a bullet.
The next morning, I walked outside the house and was immediately set upon by a swarm of them. They were late this year. I waved my hands in front of my face and took off running toward the dock. I could feel them scurrying about in my beard. A few had become trapped in my eyelashes. The high-pitched buzzing sound filled my ears and a few even flew up into my nose. When I got to the boat, I opened my mouth to say something to Aldan and a few flies flew down my throat. I choked until I dry heaved. We looked at each other and understood that the quicker we worked, the faster we could get out on the ocean. I was on the cusp of having a meltdown when the motor started. After a few minutes of moving out toward the open ocean, the flies disappeared.
I looked around and noticed Finnr wasn’t with us. Aldan mentioned that Finnr wasn’t feeling well. It seemed out of character, but he worked long hours. If anyone deserved some time off, he did. It felt strange to be out there without him. I always looked to him for guidance. He had an air of calmness about him that put me at ease. Like a beacon of hope in a world torn apart by chaos. As we glided over the calm ocean waters, I worried that Aldan and I would be lost. By end of day, we found our groove.
Over the course of the next few weeks, we discovered that the only respite from the black flies was out at sea. After a day or two of scratching ourselves raw, we decided to sleep on the boat a few miles out. Only coming back to shore to drop off the day’s catch. I wondered why I hadn’t spent more nights on the boat. After a nasty squall hit us after sunset, I realized that getting a full night’s sleep was hard to come by.
Midway through the week, Finnr decided he could no longer stay cooped up in the house. Despite Halla’s protests, he came back out the following day.
His first morning back, Finnr got into a minor power struggle with Aldan when he didn’t want to leave the helm. While Finnr was stuck at home, Aldan had taken a liking to running the ship and wasn’t too keen on giving any part of it up. For about 30 minutes, Finnr stood next to him, not saying a word until he relinquished control. It was more light hearted than it felt, but I could sense there was some animosity coming from Aldan. He was salty for a few days but soon everything was back to normal. At least the normal that we‘ve all grown accustomed to.
While traveling back to port one night, I noticed Finnr stumble and steady himself on the railing. It was quick and I wouldn't have noticed anything had I not been watching him. He moved on without skipping a beat, always quick to find work that needed to be done. I watched him a little bit longer as I coiled some rope. He looked old. Older than usual at least. Like a part of him was missing.
Whatever illness had left him bedridden for a few days seemed to have taken its toll.
When August arrived, the black flies ventured off toward a warmer climate, and we ventured home. It felt good to be back on land even though I had a hard time standing up straight. Halla greeted us with enough warmth to melt even the coldest of hearts. I walked over and hugged her, longer than she had anticipated, but she never made an effort to pull back. I resisted the urge to break down in front of Finnr and Aldan. Later that day, I met up with Anna. She joked that I appeared to be on the verge of falling over, which I accomplished a handful of times, much to her delight. It felt good to get back to normal.
Normal.
I’ve been writing that word without understanding what it means. The normal that I once knew doesn’t exist, at least not in the context of any memory I own. I wake up and go about my day as my mind and heart battle over dominion of my soul. One telling me to move on and the other telling me to never let go. It’s an exhausting state to live in, but at some point, I have to accept that I am in control of my own life. At least some of it.