Sor

Sor loved people.

The first time I talked to him, which was during the first day of the academy, we were supposed to find out something about each other and report back to the rest of the class. I remember him telling me about his family and how much he loved them. From that moment on, to me, this became his defining characteristic, his love of people.

He was always concerned for other people, always looking for ways to help out. He also always wanted to be around people, which remained true, even during the last time I saw him.

runaway

I had never ridden a horse before.

Shortly after leaving the compound we stopped the horses for a moment. My horse decided to keep walking down the trail.

“Alto!” I yelled, as I noticed we were starting to venture far from the group.

And she sped up, now walking a little faster down the trail.

Soon the brisk walk turned into a full gallop and before long we had turned down another path in the Ecuadorian jungle.

Despite my repeated pleas to stop, she kept running.

With no remaining options, I pushed myself from the back of that galloping horse. 

Ko Samet

“Are you sure that we’re allowed to go to. . . wherever it is we’re going?” The Ensign asked wearily.

“I’m sure, they never said we couldn’t, besides it’s almost the same distance as Pattaya and they’re cool with that.” I replied, with a smile.

It was warm and the sun was setting, as we continued down the road in the open-air taxi.

“I really don’t think that we were supposed to go down here.” He stated, nervously.

“No really, Ko Samet is like a national park or something, I’m sure we’re fine.” I reassured, knowing better all the while. 

ship noise

On a normal ship, out at sea, there is always noise.

On a normal ship, glued to the pier, there is always noise.

When the power goes out, there is no noise and below decks, there is no light. It’s not like being in a house without power, it’s much more intense than that.

It’s sense of missing.

Whenever you’re on a ship, underway or otherwise, you can hear it, the hum that I’d call the ship noise. When the power goes out, the ship noise is absent and you can feel it, right down to the core of you.  

Soundings

“Well, you’re about to make DC2. What would you do about it?” asked my ignorant Chief.

I was on watch and it was probably 0130 in the morning, I felt like being honest.

“Me? I’d try to convince him that the soundings are very important and make him want. . .”

“What do you mean?” interrupted Chief.

“If you can’t convince him that they are important, then perhaps they aren’t and we shouldn’t be doing them.” I replied curtly.

He didn’t say a thing and walked away, keys jingling, towards the door.

Naturally he didn’t take my advice.

flying fish

I remember the first time I saw a flying fish, it was sunset and we were drifting on a glassy sea off the coast of Malaysia. The sky was painted in brilliant shades of yellow, pink and blue. An oil platform standing in the distance contrasted with green mountainous coast.

Just then, as I was taking in the scene, a small fish zipped across the surface of the water.

I was shocked, and then another. It was beautiful.

The next time I saw a flying fish, it was midnight on a turbulent sea and the thing landed in my lap.