I sat behind a girl I had a crush on in 10th grade biology class. In my entire life of schooling, it’s the only time I ever got in trouble for talking when I wasn’t supposed to. It is definitely the first time I remember a crush starting as a physical attraction and morphing into an absolute fascination with someone’s mind. I loved the way she talked and what she would decide to say. I loved the style choices she had (I remember huge sunglasses most). Mostly, I loved that she looked stunning to me and also talked to me. I never felt like I didn’t belong when we conversed.
I can always remember her first name. April. I struggle to remember what her last name was. May? That seems silly. April Flowers would be a proper San Diego name, as we don’t really get showers there. It’s definitely not May Flowers because that is too on the nose and it would have made me think of the boat even back then. Especially back then. And my brain insists on April on the first name. Regardless, I think of her often this time of year in Sitka, the land of April Showers (even if they’re often snow showers).
I just broke out my yearbook. April Lilly. The name would have been stunning as well. For whatever reason, I never did the thing where I tried to look her up once social media was invented. I think it’s probably because I only ever really remember to think about her once a year. I hope she’s enjoying the month of April, wherever she is.
Lacking Letters
You may have noticed I’m not completing the 30 day writing challenge. Life got really hard, and that was one of the first things to go, honestly. I have still been writing a bit. My year long writing project that kicked off last month is starting to pick up steam. I’m getting to hear more from other writers in the group and there’s a real strong updraft for me from the community feel. There are days where it seems to be all I think about.
But the energy hasn’t been there. My body seems to be rejecting the idea of completing much right now. I’m fighting against the thought that I’m being lazy.
I read a timely post that I found on the social media part of Substack today. This from Dr. Vicki Connop’s post The word I would most like to erase from the English language.
When plants are withering and struggling to grow, we do not label them lazy. Instead, we get curious about their environment – Do they need water? Sunlight? Shade? Are they missing some vital nutrient? Do they have a disease? We recognise that if we can balance their environment, if we can give them what they need, they will likely return to their natural state of growth and thriving. In short, we don’t blame them, we get curious.
We are not so different from plants.
Maybe I should just be more curious.
The Buzz of Spring
Sitka is a different town once April hits. Energy levels are mixing with a slight, town-wide insomnia produced by the ridiculous changing light levels. People seem more lively. I think that’s playing a large role in how exhausted I am. Mary and I went to see Frankenstein, put on by the Greater Sitka Arts Council’s Community Theater. We also attended a birthday brunch (Yay, Mim!). We went on an art walk downtown, which was plenty exhausting, as we ended up gone from the house for over five hours. It was also plenty wonderful, and I bought myself something, a remarkable feat. (It was a super nice coffee mug!)
Perhaps my favorite bit of the last couple of months was a writing workshop put on by the Sitka Sound Science Center. A small group of adults wrote about nature/our environment. We participated in some exercises and a few writing sprints. It felt really supportive and there was plenty of laughter. (With each other, not at each other!) Each of us were brave enough to read some snippets out loud. I met one writer who has journaled each day since before I was born, and I found that remarkable.
If you’re in Sitka during the lovely month of April, these workshops are each Thursday evening for the month and are free to attend. I’m excited to get back in there and see what the next one brings. What follows is the story I wrote at the first session. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, but it is mostly in the original form it took whilst in the classroom.
It is not fiction, but it is a bit terrifying. Today I had a few reminders of how quickly life can surprise us, sometimes tragically. I feel so lucky to experience wilderness like I do. I’ll continue to try to be as safe as I can when I’m in it, and I’ll damn sure not take it for granted. I hope you enjoy this piece. Let me know if you did!
September 11th, 2022
I can’t remember why I came off the throttle. Was it a noise? Did the boat shake? Perhaps the color of the water changed from a bright blue that reflected the sky on a perfectly clear day. All I know is one moment I was flying home at 25 knots, and the next I was here, breathlessly on my feet, looking aft as a humpback submerged it's head a foot from my port quarter.
I had hit a whale. After turning to avoid the only visible pod activity by at least a mile, I had found the outlier.
When I saw their hot breath jet up in the sky I realized that I was breathing again. I had shut off the engine, but I don't know when, so it now it was just our breaths.
Had my heart stopped for a second? I wonder that now as it races uncontrollably. My hands are tingling, and my breath comes in gasps, never quite pulling in enough air. I put my hands on my head and my lips sputter as I blow out my lungs.
Every part of me feels supercharged, like I had just walked away from a playground bully and I’m waiting for them to shove me from behind.
I can't stop staring at the whale. I hope it's not hurt. How would I know if it is?
In the silence without the engine, the lapping water comes into focus. It's my breath and the whale’s, and the slapping water on the hull.
Oh, and my heart. I can hear it in my ears.
My body is telling me that something should be wrong. My brain suggests it's all okay. The longer I stare at the whale, the more my system calms down. The bully must have decided to move on to something else.
I'm okay.
I glance around. My phone is on the driver’s seat — it sits there when I'm going fast.
It's Sunday. Mary will be at brunch. For a second, I wonder if she can see all of the whale activity from the porch.
"Hello?"
"Hey, I m okay. The boat’s okay.” Cart before the horse. “I just hit a whale.”
It sounds so strange to say out loud. Her reaction comes as my memory flashes to elementary school again — this time there’s no bully as I’m walking to class. A dog runs across the street chasing a mini van. The driver sees him and brakes hard, so the dog unexpectedly catches up and face plants into the side door. The dog walks away. The driver continues on with a story.
"Well, it’s more like the whale hit me."
I liked your whale story. I didn't know that happened to you. You described your reaction quite well. That's great that you're having fun in that local class on writing. It actually caught my interest but, per usual, I have too much going on to add anything else. I hope you continue to be well fed by the act of writing.