watching water

I’m writing this aboard a ship cruising in the waters around Alaska. I’m on this trip with my parents, oldest brother, sister-in-law and nephew (almost two and already a terror, a beautiful one). It has been less traveling and more bumming around, which has been perfect for me. We sleep a lot, we eat a lot, we play a lot of Scrabble, we laugh a lot at the little one, we sit at window-side tables for hours and watch water that stretches on and on. The latter is my dad nad me; we alternately talk and sit in silence. I’m grateful for the quality quiet time I’ve had with my family. Usually our time is wrapped up in the bustle of the holidays, and while I always love that, this is a different kind of shared time. There is a sense of just living the basics together, and it has been good to live slowly.

This is also the longest time I’ve been able to spend with my nephew, enough so that he has formed an attachment to me. I know that will fade quickly enough after the trip, but it is nice while it lasts. His only words are mommy, daddy, and uh-oh. He uses mommy and daddy to refer to pretty much anything he likes, and sometimes he will chant the words over and over for no apparent reason. Because I call him baby, he has a new word now, “bobby,” or sometimes “bah-bee,” and that’s what he calls me. He still speaks in streams of baby babble, but can understand pretty much anything you tell him. He will also kiss you on command, and he loves holding hands and being held. When he gets excited he’ll holler repeatedly with some laughs in-between, and it is so funny. He’ll climb anything, and he’s at that age where he is so eager to use every sense he has. Being with him makes almost everything a sensory experience. Watching him chew with effort, I feel more strongly the stringy peel of orange slices; watching him fall back with delight after pushing himself forward to complete double high-five, I feel more strongly his little weight and how compactly he fits in my arms.

Outside of being with family, the cruise itself isn’t particularly my thing. It’s crowded, and cheesy, and centered around consumption. There is too much service; we’re constantly being asked how things are and if we need anything and what did we do today and what would we like to do tomorrow. Even though I have nothing to be private about, I miss my privacy. I have yet to find a reliably solitary place, especially on days we’re at sea and not landed anywhere, and everyone is inside. I’m not sure if I enjoy microcosms; as big as the ship is, I feel like I’m experiencing everything in miniature. But the wide-open of the seas does compensate for this. Spending long minutes watching the blue and white, with nothing but music for company, has been a welcome conduit for breathing. It has also been incredibly nice to run everyday in front of sea spilling through windows. I will miss that.

Mostly it has been nice to indulge in nothingness. I sleep without thinking about when to wake up, and that simple sensation makes me consciously happy when I get into bed at night. There is no need to do anything; we do things because of simple urges to do so. I would’ve liked to do more outdoorsy things, but my parents can’t do those things and also it has been raining quite a bit. After ending the most intense year of my life thus far, taking it easy has been welcome. This wasn’t something I planned or thought about; it just happened. The serendipitous gift of being able to do almost everything with a view of water is something to take back with me; I think even after the sight is gone the sort of stillness carried in perpetual movement stays.