It was cold, dark and cloudy. The wind made the sea angry and the sea salt smell was stronger than most nights. After my shift in the dining room was over I went and sat on my bench. The same place I always used to sit, the top deck at the back of the ship, away from the eyes of the guests. I held my knees close together to stay warm, trying to stop my teeth from chattering. It was cold but it didn’t really matter. I was already as depressed as I could be. There I was in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the ocean, not knowing what I should do or how I should do it.
From over the back of the ship, one deck below, I could hear music and the laughter of the guests. They were happy with no worries. I used to sneak down the stairs and peak through the window. The fancy curtains would always be open a little and I could see them; the happy people. They were always nicely dressed, enjoying themselves drinking fancy cocktails and dancing. Their kids were running everywhere, also having a great time. That’s when I always stopped looking. That’s all I could take.
I would go back to my bench, be depressed, and usually cry. I would cry until I had no more tears or they were freezing on my face and couldn’t feel anymore. That was the point when I would start dreaming. I would put my arms around my knees and I would dream.
I envied the happy people. I was angry it was them and not me being happy. I would choke down the anger in my throat so that I didn’t scream out loud to God demanding to know why it was them. Why was it them and not me? Why couldn’t I have my son with me on a beautiful ship having fun? Why couldn’t I be home with him instead of here, on a ship, working like a dog just to put food in his belly and mine? I would dream about the perfect man. A Prince Charming who would say; “it’s ok. You don’t have to worry anymore, I am here. You will never need to go away from your son again.” That was my dream every night after my 12 hour shift.
When I couldn’t cry, or dream anymore. I would go back to my cabin, climb into my small bunk bed and hold tightly to the white t-shirt of Dennis, my son. At least I could dream. No one could take that away from me.
Looking back now I know that dreams are not just dreams. They are so much more. Dreams can be our life. We just need to believe in our dreams and not to let the negativity in life blow them away.
Because Dreams came true.
Triplet Mom 