This document is part of the Ocean Girl Archive — Last update: 2010-04-11 — sourcemeta

Source: Web Archive, Web Archive
Author:Christopher J. Mogel

The Forever Blue

A cool breeze blows and I stand on my island in the middle of the Great Barrier Reef, letting myself become dissolved in the wind. It cleanses me of all my stress and troubles and fears. It reassuringly stings my skin with its coolness. My air and clothes are pushed back in the breeze. I smile, feeling a new sense of peace, confidence, and hope. I turn around and she is there. I don’t know her name, yet I know her. Her light, wavy hair is pushed back by the wind. Her sea green eyes entrance me and her small nose and quirky smile reassure me. Her tan skin is typical of one who has lived on the island as I have. She is half a head shorter than I am and well proportioned throughout. She could be Neri, or someone else. All I know is that she is my friend and I trust her.

I turn and smile at her. She motions to the water and we both run and jump into the crashing waves. I kick with my legs together and swim very fast. She is right behind me at my heels. I can hold my breath for a long time, almost forever, and we play tag underwater for a long time. We swim along the reef beds and old shipwrecks. It is as if the ocean our playground and we are the only children to play in it. We chase schools of fish and swim with the dolphins that feed off our coast. When we get hungry, I grab the knife and dive for mollusks, crabs, and seaweed. She takes the double pronged spear and soon returns with a large fish, flapping helplessly on the prongs. She goes out again as I start a fire and clean the mollusks, crabs, and fish. She returns with two more fish and helps me prepare our meal. We gut the fish and remove the heads (bait for our traps) and cook the fish on stakes in the coals. We use palm and fern leaves to boil the crab and mollusks in. We eat out of turtle shells, from turtles we found dead on our island some time before.

Clean up is simple: there are no leftovers and we wash our leaves and other utensils in the ocean. She smiles mischievously at me and pushes me headfirst in the water. I walk out, pick her up, and throw her over my shoulder. She laughs loudly as I throw her into the ocean. We re-wash our dishes and head back to the fire. She adds more wood to the fire as I put away the spear and utensils in their places in the tree tops. I walk out onto the beach and watch the setting sun. We have been on this island for over four migrations and more than forty-five moon cycles. About four years. When we crashed on this island, very few of us survived. Just her, myself, my mother, her father, and my older brother. They all got a sickness from a part of the island we don’t go to anymore. Later, they passed on. I don’t remember them much. She was my mother after mine left. We were the one each other missed the most. I took care of her when she missed her father. She was my mother. We have tried to contact our people from the stars. Nothing we have tried works. She comes up behind me and tickles my waist. I laugh and push her back.

We then lay in the ocean together watching the stars come out and dream of what our world was like before we left. The stars seem so much more numerous from the ocean. We swim back to shore and walk up the beach. We say goodnight to the ocean and put out our fire, letting a few embers glow and smolder for morning. We climb up our tree and into our nest. She climbs down and goes to get into something dry. I lay on my back and watch the stars. She returns and climbs in and lays next to me in the nest. We are not lovers, only friends and enjoy each other’s company at night. She rests her head on my shoulder, her hair warming my chest. I rest my arm on her shoulder in the usual spot. We both then drift off into the dreamtime together. In the morning, we will repeat this cycle all over again. We are both lost, but not entirely lost, children of the sea. Part of that forever blue as we wait, but not anxiously wait, on our island for our people to come and find us. We enjoy our lives here on our island. As I drift off to sleep, I hope that my life is not a dream. “Children of the sea, the Forever Blue.”