Day 21: Last Day on the Ship

 It was kind of a rough morning for me.

We get off the ship tomorrow, and there are so many things to say goodbye to: goodbye to my routine of getting up and running on the track; goodbye to my plate of crispy bacon for breakfast; goodbye to trivia; goodbye to our stateroom; goodbye to the food and drink; goodbye to all the good people we've met (Pam, Di, Allen, Peter, Joanne, Bob, Brenda, Paul, Helen, Julie, Peter, Tim, Sylvia, Dennis, Ken, Steph, Jacinta, Michael, Patty, and more than a few others I'm neglecting to mention); goodbye to the evening hot tubbing; goodbye to the friendly staff we've made connections with; goodbye to the supper table that made us feel like part of a family these last 11-or-so days. But most of all, goodbye to the late nights on the upper decks, where it was just me, my thoughts, and this tiny speck of a ship in the incomprehensible inky vastness of an uncaring ocean stretching out in every direction everywhere forever.

The water this morning was different from what I was used to. A guy I spoke to called it oily, which wasn't that bad a description. It seemed thicker, maybe? A deeper blue. There were little waves on the surface giving it some texture, but overall it was behaving like a big rubber sheet: huge undulating waves that rolled out from the ship but didn't break.

The water this afternoon was a lot more turbulent. And my thoughts this morning were a lot more turbulent, too. Thinking about all the goodbyes put a lump in my throat so big it was hard to breathe. I went down to deck 5, the open-air deck closest to the water, to watch the waves and try to sort through how I was feeling.

There's a scene in Better Call Saul that rolls through my head regularly. Nacho Varga is a bad guy who works for the cartel, but ultimately ends up as a tragic character, used by both the cartel and by Gus Fring, through his love for his father. It soon becomes clear that the path he's on will end in his death, and he gives himself up in order to save his father's life.

Mike gives Nacho a final meal before he's to meet his fate with the cartel the next day, and he's seen at one point putting salt and pepper on his food. This wasn't a man eating for sustenance; this was someone who didn't lose his appetite (heh), but who loved life and wanted to savor his last moments.

And this was me, too. I had a wonderful time on this ship. Far better than I expected, to be fair. And while this chapter of my trip is closing, there are new ones beginning, and it wasn't fitting to end my time here sullen and closed off. I wanted to do the things I enjoyed in a way that reflected back the happiness they gave me. So I ran my 5k and watched the ocean while eating a big plate of bacon. I saw some dolphins in the wake of the ship. Somehow, magically, a monarch butterfly flew by me, some 400km from Australia. I ate a delicious salad during our last round of progressive trivia. I had a hot dog and gave my best wishes to Ati (the hot dog guy). I climbed the rock climbing wall and finally managed to make it to the top of the little kid route (which, regardless of what people said, is ridiculously difficult for an adult). I enjoyed our group's last meal together at table 210. I drank Mojitos and strawberry daiquiris and talked to strangers. I handed out Canada pins to pretty much everyone. 

I'm still a little sad to go. But today was a fine day. I'm taking a lot of positive memories with me. And I hope we managed to leave a few, too.