6:30 Chapel - Leaving Nantucket

Leaving Nantucket was not as hard the second time. But it still was hard, bittersweet. We have a tradition to throw a penny as the boat passes our lighthouse, Brant Point. I took the 6:30 am boat and traveled until noon the following day. Thank goodness for prescriptions and for the cool lounge chairs in Charles de Gaulle aiport where I slept soundly (robbers could have taken anything they wanted!) for at least 2 hours. But here is the story of the leaving - if you are conscious to it - a holy time.

Deep orange sky, scattered purple clouds, black silhouettes of boats all reflected in glass-still water. Along the town dock bright white lights sit atop poles interspersed with the pilings. Now that they are competing with the light of the sun it seems impossible that they could have offered enough light in the dark of night. Nantucket pulled out all the stops to keep me home on Tuesday morning when I left, Casey and I actually, in the Honda, on the 6:30am boat. Tempted as I was by all this beauty to call off the Adventure in Egypt Part Two, we were on the boat when the whistle blew leaving the dock. I thought of all my friends just waking up to that wonderful woeful sound thinking of me, and thinking of me thinking of them, our thoughts swirling above the island together.

We morning departers gathered for our ablutions at the railing. Here is the elderly man and is wife and what looks to be an adult daughter. The women gaze at the scenery and gently put their hands on the man's elbows whenever he seems to be turning away from them. He jitters quietly as if he were a vehicle with the motor left running. His hands worry over the buttons of his cardigan. The women watch the sky turn from orange to yellow. Their faces as quiet as the waters below, only their arms occasionally reaching out to guide their husband, father.

Here comes the artist I know from way-back, I am pretty sure I heard she has cancer. She looks much thinner. We smile at each other as she passes me and finds her place at the rail. This is a sacred time, for silence but our smiles instantly transmit a conversation we do not need to speak - “Hi how are you?” “Not well” “I know, I heard.” “Yeah, it is what it is.” “Yeah, I know, I am sorry. I am a woman too and maybe I will have to suffer this way as well someday – could happen.” “I hope not.” “We have known each other for a long time.” “Yes, we have, we have . . .” In just a look, and a smile, we rekindle all our Nantucket history and without a word turn back to our thoughts.

Here is the young couple (obviously from OFF-island) smiling quietly at each other, leaning in to each other as they speak. “Do you have the pennies?”, “Of course! Two shiny ones.” It is early and they cannot get enough of each other. They are cute together. I look away feeling as if this is too intimate a moment to observe.

I think of my friend who admonishes me each time we leave, “Be sure to throw your penny!” I used to be defiant and NOT throw one just to show that not coming back was just FINE with me. Now I am sure to have my penny ready. She always chose hers and her daughters' so carefully, still does I think. Each one selected for its date/numbers and their relevance to the person throwing it. I am amazed at how sad I am to think of this detail from her life. I hold my penny in my pocket and feel how light it is, and small.

I savor the view with my fellow travelers as we lean against the rail altar. No priest but the sky. No sermons but our own. Brant Point has a large skirt of sand – low tide. Two people walk slowly on the edge, their heads bowed searching for the perfect shell. I long to be with them, find out who they are, how long THEY will stay, tell them, I almost moved to Cairo once, can you believe that?? Two gulls fly by below us, and I watch their backs as their wings lift once, twice, and then glide along above their reflections. I think, what an unusual view.

We say our prayers, and throw the accompanying pennies, to come back. I say mine – to come back to this. This day unchanged, exactly the same, waiting for me, so I will miss nothing, not one moment and so that nothing will arrive after me to mar this picture. I think of the people next to me and wonder if they wish the same impossible wish. The man is not coming back to the same anything ever again. Even though I am a complete stranger I know that is true. And my friend the artist . . . maybe she is not even so hopeful to wish coming back at all. Maybe she is realistic and just gives thanks. And the young couple, do they know to show gratitude? So easy to forget when you are young, in love, and everything seems easy. I am sure that they do not really understand that coming back to an island waiting and the same as it is today will be a miracle.

My penny falls fast. Bright copper sparkling in the last-of-summer sunrise before it slips silently below the waves.