Sunday, April 24: At Sea

There's something about the last day at sea that's a little sad and poignant. You realize that the artificial world you've been enjoying and largely taken for granted for the period of the cruise is coming to an end. The places you've been, the friends you've made and especially in this case, the luxury you've enjoyed, will soon be behind you and you'll be going back to who you were, where you were, when you were. I find all that a little depressing. It's somewhat like the end of a day at the beach in summer, when the heat begins to fade and the sand grows cooler beneath your feet. Anticipation melts away. Reality returns. I find this especially true when I have to drag out the bags and pack up - although I must admit that I like packing at the end of a trip better than at the beginning; there are no decisions to make about what to include and I can just throw the shirts in any old way, not oh-so-carefully wrapped in plastic grocery bags a la Martha Stewart. The few souvenirs I bought on the trip fit easily into my carry-on bag and that bottle of Ketel One, given to me by Princess and Romeo when I came aboard and which remained unopened, fit very nicely, wrapped in old underwear, into that pocket in my bag between the two metal supports to the rollers on the bottom. I packed early in the day - to get it out of the way - and spent the rest of the day on deck, taking head shots of people I wanted to remember. It was Easter Sunday and we had a very special buffet lunch in the dining room, complete with anything you could possibly want to eat, arranged around a giant chocolate bunny rabbit. Romeo gave me a certificate for passing through the Panama Canal and Myra gave us all a diploma for graduating from her bar. I cashed in our collected points - we had enough for two Silver Sea hats, an alarm clock and a book mark (all with the Silver Sea logo). We said our goodbyes to our new friends - mostly the staff - and went to bed, our color-coded luggage whisked away by the porters, to reappear in the terminal the next day.

I was sorry to wake up in the night feeling pebbles in my bed. Closer examination revealed that the objects weren't pebbles at all but beads from a bracelet I bought (along with many others like it) in Turkey some years ago and distributed to the residents at my mother's then nursing home. When Mom died, I found the bracelet in a drawer and on impulse, put it on. I've worn it ever since. The elastic-like plastic thread that held it all together had finally given up and broken; I'm surprised it lasted this long. Still, I was sorry to see it go, like my mom, and my trip, into the past. I collected all the beads and when I got home (which I am now) restrung them on a wire I can keep with other mementoes - oh sentimental me - of my mother.

Stay tuned.