Beautiful.
Beautiful, Beautiful Lady.
A Lady in the truest sense.
An accent, a dignity, a softness.
Silver white shoulder length hair.
Sinewy muscles hold on during a bumpy ride.
The youth of the boat is distressed.
She is calm, serene, ready.
Barely speaking
Everything through the eyes.
The eyes that bring a sudden staggering blue.
I am stopped in my figurative tracks.
That bright icy blue, long wet dark lashes
Then a child-like smile as she slips on her equipment.
Her boastful daughter: "She's had over 60 dives."
Standing tall under tanks and skins,
effortless in the silliest of functional footwear:
flippers.
The bobbing seasick boat has a reason,
a reminder of why we came here
Her eyes, her light, her quick fleeting laugh.
We need to leave early.
The talkative daughter: "She had to abort her dive."
I glance over. Double take.
A crumpled elderly woman sits sideways.
Purple against gray stuck in two lumps of red clay.
Closed eyes
Closed smile for my benefit
Calming nose breath
She is held over chopped water
A clumsy scurry to the harbor
I glace over, again again again.
The nonplussed daughter: "Thank you for your understanding."
"We just want her to be okay."
Of course of course of course.
The slits open, a cloudy gray
not the bluest sky of eye.
The rejection of the sea
The salt and pressure
The fear
The heartbreak.
A heartbreak.
A lady who becomes an old woman.
The last adventure.
