In honor of Earth Day, here are some pictures of our beautiful earth.
Tag: ocean
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Cheloniidae’s Revenge
“Observe only. Don’t interfere.”
Those words rung in my head as another baby sea turtle lost its race to the ocean. I bit back the bile in my throat. Waves of seagulls had descended this peaceful beach at dawn, feasting on newly hatched turtles. If it weren’t for the professor and my fellow students behind me, I would have scooped up hatchlings until my arms were full.
Instead I stood frozen in place. My eyes burned with unshed tears. Poachers we were allowed to stop, but these squawking demons were off limits. One single baby flopped toward the crashing waves. Hope rose in my heart only to be dashed as it was snatched into the air inches from the water. Not a single turtle had made it to the water.
My eyes clouded over and it felt as though fire burned through my veins. This had to stop. It had to end. Energy twisted inside me, then surged through my bare feet into the sand.
The gull’s frenzied pitch changed tone within seconds. What had been a turtle massacre changed to a seagull stampede. The flock swooped away from the beach. Their voices seemed to cry out in unison: “Flee! Flee! Flee!”
Behind me I heard panicked exclamations from the others. I didn’t need to look to know what chased the gulls, but I turned anyway. A smile split my face as a giant flying sea turtle snapped up seagulls in midair. This circle of life was biting back.
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Memories
I find it fascinating how different people can remember the same event in different ways. I got a call from my sister the other day right after she read my post titled A Pesach Story. She didn’t recall much of the food we ate at Seder growing up, but this is what she did recollect.
1. The smell of the apartment building as we entered and walked down the hall from the elevator. My sister thought it smelled like roast chicken, but to me it smelled like chopped liver. And yes, Grandma Dorothy made the best chopped liver.
2. There was always a small glass of tomato juice at everyone’s place setting. I had forgotten about the tomato juice until she mentioned it.
3. Everyone chanted something at one point or another during the Seder, whether it be the blessing over the wine, the four questions, or other prayers. Sometimes it was the same prayer repeated by another family member. Perhaps this is why music is such an integral part of religious ceremony and celebration to me. From my earliest memories music has been a key element. Whether it be the chanting of a prayer or the comfort of family gathered around a piano, singing, happy.
4. The Afikoman was broken so each child present had a piece to turn in for a prize. Being the youngest by more than five years, I don’t think I ever realized this.
5. The smell of the salty air. My grandparent’s apartment was on the beach. We could stand out on their balcony and watch the waves crashing on the sand. I have many fond memories of playing in those waves during the summer while my grandparents watched from the boardwalk.
Family = Love = Together
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Salt and Sails
Cool spray caresses my face and the salt tastes sweet on my lips. The scent of sea air permeates my being. This is my first and only love. I close my eyes and feel the brig as it cuts through the calm waters of the bay. The rise and fall of the waves still send shivers of joy down my spine. Here is where I belong, not bound to the hard unmoving land.
I clutch the two gold bands that hang from my neck. My parents told me I was born in the churning waves of a storm, among the sugar cane and indigo of the hold. They were only passengers on that voyage, and fled the rocking of the ship as soon as they made landfall. But my destiny was established.
Forty years have passed since I ran to my lover disguised as a boy, only days after my parents died. I was twelve, and have never left the embrace of the ocean. Now, as Captain, I sail the same route that bore me, delivering new shipments from the islands to these costal ports.
The days of the brig are almost gone, overtaken by newer ships with smaller crews. But this is my life, my ship. There are no regrets. My heart races through the water like a dolphin and I long for the challenge of sailing into those crimson seas at dawn. Perhaps I’ll leave this world the way I entered, on the roiling waves of the sea.