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tourbi
Age: 57 Zodiac: 
| Joined: 09 Jan 2008 |
| Posts: 2640 |
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Location: tourbiland, at the foot of Pikes Peak, USA
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 Posted: Mon Jul 28, 2008 3:31 pm |
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Seal Island
Heather Cook Lindsay
Born and raised in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, my husband had never so much as dipped a toe in the ocean. And he had no interest in doing so. I was shocked when I learned that my twenty-eight-year-old future husband had no clue how to swim. Andrew had no interest in ever seeing the ocean, much less swimming in it. He was convinced that he’d either sink like a rock to the bottom, or he’d be attacked by a shark.
“Honey, it’s virtually impossible for you to sink to the bottom of the ocean. You do have legs and arms you know. All you have to do is move them.”
“I’m telling you I sink like a stone,” he continued. “My father tried to teach me how to swim in a pool when I was a kid.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I ended up on my back at the bottom of the pool. Just lying there and staring up at the surface. I couldn’t move.”
I started to laugh, but he looked serious. My soon-to-be husband wanted nothing to do with the ocean and the magic it has to offer.
I had to admit my heart was a little broken. I grew up in the Northeast, and my family spent each summer in a Maine beach cottage. Summer vacation was a reprieve from “real life” that I looked forward to each and every year of my childhood. My parents always fought a great deal and never seemed very happy together. However, our time at the beach seemed to make our family a little more cheerful. My parents fought less, and my older sister and I spent time together. At the beach, my family seemed closer; hence, Maine had always been special to me.
Due to some difficult family circumstances, Andrew and I had planned to elope. Sitting together in front of the computer, we searched on the Internet for a special place to get married. We looked at the mountains in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, with its beautiful chalets and open-air hot tubs. We then considered Florida.
“How about Dollywood, Tennessee?” I said, laughing. It was as good a place as any at that point. Nothing seemed to click. I had a good idea where I’d like to get married, but didn’t think Andrew would go for it.
The next morning the winter sun was strong and woke me far earlier than I had intended on a Sunday. From the den, I heard the almost silent sound of keys tapping.
“Have you ever heard of Seal Island?” he asked as I entered the den.
“Nope,” I said, sliding into the computer chair.
“Well, you’ll be there by December eighteenth.”
That was in three days. What was he talking about?
Seal Island, I learned, was a little wisp of an island off the coast of Wells, Maine. Somehow he stumbled across it on the Internet, and he had already rented a cottage for us directly on the beach.
“Honey, you have never wanted to go near the ocean,” I said. “What are you thinking?”
“That I love you,” he said, kissing my nose. “Go get packed.”
Two days later, I bought a dress off the rack, picked up two wedding rings, and let my parents know we’d be arriving. Long since divorced, both lived close to where we vacationed as a family. I suppose that it held good memories for all of us. Andrew and I boarded the flight from North Carolina to cold, snowy Maine just in time for our December twentieth wedding. My mother picked us up at the airport, and I noticed Andrew sniffing the air with some interest, like a dog catching a whiff of steak on the grill.
“What’s that smell?” he asked.
“Salt air! Isn’t it great?” I said, excited to be back in Maine.
He shrugged his shoulders unconvinced, but kissed my mother and off we went to find the cottage. I admit I was nervous. In our relationship I did all of the planning, and for good reason. My husband’s idea of a romantic date was combing through the DVD section of a discount store and grabbing a sandwich at a fast-food place.
We pulled into the driveway of a small house in Wells. The cottage was white, and though not directly on the sand, was seated on a low cliff. Salty, misty air enveloped the house. Inside, the owners had decorated a Christmas tree, and it stood majestically in the center of a picture window that looked out onto the winter sea. Standing by the window, I squinted through my bad eyes and asked what was moving out on the water.
“Seals,” Andrew said excitedly, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That must be Seal Island!”
We stood together and watched seals dive and swim, then climb back onto the small island to huddle together. But we had to move along—we had a wedding to prepare for the following afternoon.
We awoke the next morning to a sight to behold. The sea was stormy, with waves crashing against the rocks. Seagulls swooped overhead, their cries reminding me of those special summers as a child. A few hours later, we took our vows standing by the picture window. I wore a simple cream-colored dress, and my husband wore informal trousers and a shirt, set off by a royal blue tie with tiny snowflakes. The white cake was covered with red frosted roses, and sugar-encrusted snowflakes surrounded the base. A few family members took us to a quaint restaurant down the road, where we had our first meal as husband and wife. At the end of dinner, everyone left, leaving my new husband and me in our cottage by the sea. It was late afternoon, and snow started sifting from the sky. Thinking Andrew would be ready for a nap, I went to change into comfortable clothes. He followed me into the bedroom and took me by the hand, leading me to the front door of the cottage. “Wait here,” he said, returning a moment later to hand me my small bridal bouquet of red roses. My husband led me outdoors down a winding rustic path to the ocean. I was in my wedding dress and heels still. Was he crazy?
Reading my thoughts, he picked me up and carried me over the rocks to where a small patch of sand waited, not yet filled with snow. I watched him as he took off his nice shoes, and then his socks. “Andrew, it’s snowing. . . . It’s freezing,” I said. “What are you doing?”
“I never thought I would want to put my feet in the ocean,” he said, “much less in twenty-degree weather, but this is no ordinary day.”
And there in front of me was my new husband. Six-feet-four inches, his pants rolled up to his calves, laughing like a child and splashing in the sea. The seals were still cavorting on their island, and it felt like the world was celebrating with us. I tossed my bouquet into the water, imagining all of the memories to come.
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