Chapter Text
This is not how I expected to spend the rest of my life. It is, however, how I intend to.
I did not know it at the time, when I first peered over the shipโs hull and saw him.
An inky mark on the surrounding snow and ice.
He looked cut out of the cliffs, chiseled like a fragmenting sheet off an iceberg.
Eyes open wide, not taking anything in, just knowing that they must.
He tells me Iโm too much of a romantic. But I failed miserably at being a poet.
I pored over W. B. Yeats, trying to put my picturesque view of things on paper.
The Second Coming, torn out and pasted into the front cover of a long-lost notebook, but the words are still imprinted in my mind:
โ๐๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐จ๐บ๐ณ๐ฆ
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ค๐ข๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ณ;
๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด ๐ง๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ข๐ฑ๐ข๐ณ๐ต; ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ข๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ;
๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ณ๐ค๐ฉ๐บ ๐ช๐ด ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ถ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ญ๐ฅ,
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ-๐ฅ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ด ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ๐ฅ, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐บ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ค๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐บ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ช๐ด ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฅ;
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต ๐ญ๐ข๐ค๐ฌ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ท๐ช๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด๐ต
๐๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ถ๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฑ๐ข๐ด๐ด๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ด๐ช๐ต๐บ.
๐๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ญ๐บ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ญ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ช๐ด ๐ข๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ;
๐๐ถ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ญ๐บ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ช๐ด ๐ข๐ต ๐ฉ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ! ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ญ๐บ ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ข ๐ท๐ข๐ด๐ต ๐ช๐ฎ๐ข๐จ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ฑ๐ช๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ถ๐ด ๐๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ช
๐๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ด๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต: ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ด๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฆ๐ณ๐ต
๐ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ญ๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ฅ๐บ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ข ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ,
๐ ๐จ๐ข๐ป๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ญ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฑ๐ช๐ต๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐ข๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ถ๐ฏ,
๐๐ด ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ด๐ญ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ด, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ ๐ข๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ช๐ต
๐๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ญ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ช๐จ๐ฏ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด๐ฆ๐ณ๐ต ๐ฃ๐ช๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ณ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐ฅ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ด ๐ข๐จ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ; ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ
๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ธ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐บ ๐ค๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ถ๐ณ๐ช๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ด๐ต๐ฐ๐ฏ๐บ ๐ด๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฑ
๐๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ท๐ฆ๐น๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฏ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต๐ฎ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ข ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ค๐ณ๐ข๐ฅ๐ญ๐ฆ,
๐๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ต, ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ต ๐ญ๐ข๐ด๐ต,
๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐๐ฆ๐ต๐ฉ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฎ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฏ?โ
How ironic it is that Iโve lived it now.
And took God to bed.
My sister Margaret saw my romanticism as inattentiveness.
I was never walking, always wandering.
Out there, or up here.
Imagination is an excellent refuge for the grieving.
It works for a time to cure loneliness. But always leaves you with unattainable standards or the self-idolization of a suffering that you convince yourself you deserve.
And when youโve got a secret to hide, itโs an alibi that keeps you out of trouble.
But even with all the effort I put into idealizing every aspect of my life, I never thought Iโd be one to believe in silly myths like โlove at first sightโ or embarrassing notions like a single โsoulmateโ.
All I wanted was someone who would share my joy and ease my pain.
Sure, a part of me believed that I was so drawn to the outreaches of society, on the fringe of the Arctic, because of some greater calling, a divine purpose waiting for me up there.
And when I saw Victor on the ice below, did I know I had found what I was searching for?
No.
But itโs almost telling, and itโs a feeling I can't fully describe, the way there was no hesitation to catch and hold him when he fainted as he was hauled onto the deck.
I believe in many things now.
Not all warm or pleasant.
Sometimes I feel that Adam, Caroline, and Victorโbefore all of itโ believed in me more than I deserve.
But there are certain things in this world we simply need to see to believe.
And I never knew before the ship, and the sea, and the figure on the ice, that love was one such thing.
But Iโve spent 18 years building on something that was never meant to last.
Humans are not meant to live below the ice.
Life is not meant to be created out of death.
Warmth is not meant to be found in a place without sunlight.
And we were never meant to be happy.
Just alive and content.
But each day I wake, and I put this imagination, this habit of veneration, to imagine a way that we can be more than just that.