ASCENSION: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES (28 page)

The rabbits were as prolific as expected and made for a nice source of protein when the menu called for it.  And the chickens, while not as productive as we’d hoped in supplying us with eggs, were easy to maintain as we allowed them to roam the island freely since there were no predators to threaten them.  They didn’t take much work to keep, and the most difficult aspect in maintaining them was finding the eggs they laid.  We’d managed to collect about a dozen in the month since we’d landed.  The kids – who were charged with the regular feeding and care of the animals – found this an intriguing and exiting part of their role as caretakers.  The search for eggs became a sort of ever-present Easter egg hunt in which they were constantly trying to outdo one another.  So far, the score sat at eight eggs for Paul, six eggs for Sarah, and one for Jason, a find that came largely by accident as our sweet little guy thought it was an especially interesting looking seashell he’d found in the weeds as opposed to an actual chicken egg.

Water was another constant concern.  While we still had a good supply of several hundred gallons aboard the yacht from which to draw if we had to, we did our best to hold that in reserve whenever possible.  We’d collected some potable water from rainstorms and we’d found that we could make some seawater drinkable through a sort of evaporation contraption we’d built using some of the roll of plastic sheeting we’d brought with us, but it wasn’t always enough for everyone.

However, we’d also learned that if we dug down deep enough in the sandy channel that ran between the lagoon and the other side of the island, we began to get sand-filtered water that was drinkable.  We turned this into a sort of well, ringing it with a thatched fence to keep the chickens and any other little wildlife from falling into it, potentially contaminating it in the process.  Then we placed a cover Sharron had woven from palm fronds atop it to keep out debris or bird droppings as they flew overhead.  We found that this worked quite well as a regular water source, at least until the first big storm obliterated our contraption, sweeping away the fencing and filling in our hole.  But it was easy enough to re-dig, and Sharron had the thatched fencing replaced within a day.

And while we could have slept aboard the yacht, and did so occasionally in storms or bad weather, we chose to spend most of our time – both day and night – on the island.  We’d constructed a nice little tiki hut with raised floor in which about four people could comfortably sleep.  Plus, we had two tents that provided ample shelter for the rest of us.  Sometimes the couples would take turns having “private evenings” aboard the yacht.  Even dad and Emily would take a turn occasionally.  These breaks served as little mini-vacations where we could appreciate the comfort of sleeping in a real bed again.  In the morning, we would rise, eat breakfast, lounge and read onboard for an hour or two and then dive off the yacht into the crystal-clear waters of the lagoon for our morning baths before swimming to shore.

At night, we’d sit around the campfire after dinner and tell stories or talk about the day’s events.  The kids would discuss their play plans for the upcoming day, and the adults might mention a project they needed help with or one they were thinking about for the future.

I’d often take this time to massage Claire’s feet to keep the circulation to these areas moving in hopes of staving off any ill-affects of her diabetes.  She’d been doing wonderfully at keeping things in check with her blood sugars.  Even then, it was a constant battle for Claire to regulate her diabetes, and eventually, no matter how well she did, we’d need more supplies for her.  I knew we’d have to go back to Miami. I was just hoping that we could stick it out on our island home long enough for things to cool down and become more organized back on the mainland.  I prayed that given time, the rest of the world would find some semblance of order and eventually even get back to a point where at least a basic level of health and medical services were again available.  But I think both Claire and I were realistic regarding the future and understood that there were no guarantees.

As I stood on our northernmost beach one late afternoon working through a list in my head that included taking food and supply inventory, making some repairs to our tiki hut, having Claire give me an update on her insulin supply, and checking on how much sunscreen and bug repellent we had left, I took a moment to gaze around me. 

In the distance, I saw Claire and Jason at the water’s edge.  Claire was bent at the waist, holding Jason’s hand as he poked at a shell with a stick.  I saw Paul and Sarah swimming just off shore, wrestling playfully as they tried to dunk one another below the smooth, almost imperceptible waves.  I saw Will and Sharron walking hand in hand along the shoreline, keeping an eye on their children but giving them the freedom to play on their own.  I saw dad and Emily sitting together on a palm that grew at an angle from where the coconut grove met with the beach.  They were reading together and holding hands. 

As I stood taking in this scene of tranquility, I tried to clear my head of my mental list to absorb it all. I thought back to Will’s words aboard the yacht on our way to the island about trying harder to living in the here and now.  I realized that as much as I might work to plan and organize everything, I couldn’t.  I’d never be able to control
everything
. 

I continued to gaze around me at the island paradise in which we’d settled.  I looked at the shimmering ocean waves, the swaying tops of the palms, the family I loved gathered here with me, living together, loving one another; and I listened to the soothing sound of the surf gently shuffling shells along the shoreline. 

That’s when it hit me.

I had it all and I hadn’t even realized it.  We had plenty of supplies, many of which were sustainable here on the island.  I had no pressures of a job or career.  I didn’t have to deal with the harrowing commute in to work each day and sit in a cubicle toiling away at the daily grind. We’d survived not just the worst pandemic the world had ever seen, but the ensuing chaos it’d inflicted upon society and civilization. 

Each day was now a gift to be enjoyed in full with the people I loved. 

That was my job.

Will had been right; I needed to learn to live more in the moment.

Were things perfect?  No, of course not.  Would they ever be perfect…anywhere…in any situation?  No.

I knew that we’d have to go back eventually.  For as much as we loved it here, would it be the best long-term situation for the kids?  Would we want to seclude them here without friends, without peers, without lives and loves of their own? 

Sure, it was an island paradise now, but eventually, as they grew older, they’d want to meet friends, go on dates, and find spouses.  This would then become a prison to them.  A tropical prison, but a prison nonetheless. 

But right now, it was time to do my best to live here, in the moment, and focus purely on the things – the people – that were most important to me. 

I walked over to where Claire and Jason stood.  There, I kissed my lovely wife and knelt beside my son to inspect a shell as the luke-warm waters of the Caribbean washed up around our ankles. 

One day we’d have to go back, but that day was not today.