Falling in Love

Today concludes our stay at Palmyra. In this moment, preparing to leave the comfort of the lagoon, I feel as if I am leaving something very special behind.

I think it's fair to say that many aboard the RC Seamans have fallen in love with Palmyra. The gorgeous tropical reefs and sparkling beaches tickle the hearts of even the saltiest of our sailors. I, however, am in a more unique predicament. I have fallen in love on Palmyra.

I first saw her on the beach. She was there when our group stepped ashore, gazing out over the ocean like Poseidon's daughter, one with the sea. Struck by her beauty, my eyes briefly met hers. I looked away in embarrassment, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw she too turned red.

After some internal deliberation, I finally gathered the courage to approach her. I walked up to her, still sitting on the beach, and introduced myself.

To my horror, she looked at me with fear and started to back away. What had I done wrong? Was it something in the tone of my voice? Was I being too forward? In a moment of sudden clarity, I realized my mistake. Crouching, I leaned back onto my hands, and side by side we began to stroll down the glistening reef flats.

I'll admit, my lover was rather shy. Despite my efforts to lead conversation, we always deferred back to content silence. As I see it, our special bond transcended words - we spoke only the language of love. As we walked, we drew closer and closer, our steps falling into a harmonious rhythm. Perhaps it was the equatorial heat, but I could feel my chest fill with warmth. She too, became livelier, increasingly opening up and coming out of her shell. Before long we were dancing together in the sand, frolicking with unbridled joy. Minutes turned to hours as we basked among the coconuts and coral. Cupid's arrow had struck me firmly in the heart.

As the sun began to draw closer to the horizon, I realized my time with my newfound love was setting too. Soon, the boats would arrive at the dock, tearing us apart. Dark clouds formed overhead, and we were quickly overtaken by a violent squall. I fell to my knees in the muddy sand and cursed the sky, pleading with whatever cruel force of nature had brought us together, only to separate us with such haste. The sky's sole response was more thunder, a mocking laugh to my misery.

Struggling to hold back tears, I tenderly lifted my soulmate and placed her in the palm of my hand. Peering into her eyestalks, I could see that she was similarly devastated. Holding her pincer between my fingers, I whispered consoling words, knowing full well that my promises were empty. As the life boat whisked me away, I watched the elegant outline of her shell disappear into the rain.

I suppose it was doomed to fail from the beginning. I, a boy from a small town in West Michigan, and she, a stunning Palmyran Strawberry Hermit Crab.

Star-crossed, in every sense, yet connected by some deeper force. Even now, as our ship undertakes its journey northward, I scan the horizon for signs of her. My eyes are met with nothing but empty blue ocean. Such is the tragedy of the boy and the crab.

With great sorrow,

Dakota Riemersma