A GIFT FROM THE SEA

Alita loved to walk along the shore. As a child, she would run and play with the waves, but with the passing of years that had turned her brown hair white, her gait was slowed but still steady. This shore was where her memories began. She often found small treasures, bits of beauty, tossed up as gifts from the sea. She loved finding bits of glass and stones polished to a high sheen by the tumbling sea, sun-bleached bits of driftwood smooth to the touch, and shells that had once been homes to sea creatures. All such treasures washed onto the shore were waiting to be found, examined, and sometimes fetched home to adorn her humble seaside home.

One day as she strolled along the beach at low tide, she spied a lovely, sea-smoothed piece of driftwood. She picked it up, brushed off the surface and turned it over. Startled by what she saw, she dropped the piece which landed at her feet. Her name Alita was staring back at her. She sank down on the sand and picked the driftwood up again. Slowly, she traced the letters of her name, which were discernible in faded paint, whispering each letter in turn. A-L-I-T-A. From whence had this name-bearing piece of driftwood come?

She stepped into the gently lapping waves and washed the driftwood free of sand. She tucked it under her arm and made her way home. She sat on the porch steps again caressing each letter of her name. A-L-I-T-A. She closed her eyes and let her mind go free. As she did so, she waited for messages from beyond to come. She had learned to do this long ago. At first, nothing came. She breathed deeply surrendering to that space of nothingness. Then, a glimmer of an image began to take shape and a vision-story unfolded.

 The vision-story opened with lightning illuminating a stormy sea. She could see waves lashing at a sailing ship, and then in the way of vision-stories, she was on that ship seated and trembling on deck. She was very small. It was dark except when lightning burst through the darkness. She should have been frightened, but somehow, she wasn’t. Deckhands were scurrying about getting small boats nearby organized. She could see these small boats all bore the name of the ship, ALITA.

Alita’s eyes snapped open. She was seated on her porch holding the piece of driftwood in her lap. She did not know if her vision-story was something that had really happened to her or not. She didn’t know all the details of her young life. She knew only that as far back as she could remember she had lived on this lush, life-sustaining island. Her first memories were of sand and the sound of waves and then gentle, loving arms and a melodic voice carrying her to the safety of this house where she now sat. Her memories were suffused with the sweet smell of Tapaku, the only mother she had ever known, who had called her Alita and taught her all she needed to know to survive and thrive on this island. Tapaku, sweet Tapaku, who had simply vanished one day leaving Alita alone, but who had continued to visit her in dreams from time to time guiding and soothing her from that dream realm.

Over the years, Alita had accepted her fate that her life was meant to be lived on the island. She had found the beauty and generosity of the island enough. She had not consciously questioned nor wondered about her fate until now. Holding the driftwood with her name on it was pushing at the boundaries of what she knew. It was also beckoning to her to venture beyond those boundaries into the unknown. She intuited that the driftwood had been sent from the sea to reveal its story to her.

She shook herself out of these ruminations and rose carrying the driftwood into the house where she placed it lovingly on an altar Tapaku had made before she vanished. It looked perfect amongst her other gifts from the sea gracing the altar. The vision of the stormy sea flashed briefly before her eyes startling her. Usually, her visions left her alone to ponder or ignore as she chose. Not this one.

Exhausted. Alita lay down on the palm mat in front of the altar and fell asleep, only to dream. She saw herself no longer on the ship and the storm had passed. She was lying as a small child in the sand on the beach. She sat up and looked out to sea. A sailing ship was on the horizon and then gone.

She awoke wondering what it all meant. She found it all very compelling. She felt unknown forces thrusting her to unravel the messages in her vision. She sat up and took the piece of driftwood onto her lap again because it felt right to do so. She breathed deeply as Tapaku had taught her long ago and again surrendered her mind to receive. She was surprised by what she was shown. The sailing ship from her dream had disappeared. Instead, now she saw a small boat bobbing up and down adrift on the sea. She saw a small child alone in that boat and felt a rising wind whipping up the waves. The small child clung to the sides of the boat until the winds and waves took charge of the boat and brought both boat and child to shore. She knew the child to be herself. She turned her eyes to the boat which was resting on the beach at the lip of the sea and saw painted on its side the word “Alita.” The vision’s view shifted, and she saw Tapaku’s face above her. Suddenly, a large wave washed onto the shore and shook the boat loose. The sea claimed the boat but left the child on the shore where Tapaku found and rescued her. The vision faded away.

Alita opened her eyes. Tears of gratitude flowed down her cheeks at the revelation from her vision. Her hands rested on the driftwood still in her lap. Tapaku had always told her that the sea had brought her to the island and named her. Tapaku had listened and acquiesced to that naming, calling her Alita, which Tapaku said meant “gift from the sea.”

From her visions, Alita now knew she truly was a gift from the sea. Her visions had revealed to her that the driftwood she held in her lap was from the small boat that had carried her to this island shore and Tapaku’s loving arms long ago. Whether or not she would come to know more, only time would tell.