From my earlier descriptions of our site, one can see that things were never ideally perfect, however our bond as a group is what kept us together. We all helped each other out through the adjustment period and made sure that everyone saw the light at the end of the tunnel. None of us had a choice; as things started to break down, we had to depend on each other for a lot of everyday necessities. By the time that Heidi had arrived, that familial bond had been developed between myself and my three female roomies. Within a period of a few short days we had already measured each other up, noticed the strengths and weaknesses of everyone in the pack and made things work. Honestly it took some effort from us all, but it turned out perfect. With the arrival of Heidi is where the scales started to tip...
Friendship and trust were the keys to one's survival here. We were isolated, alone and disconnected from the modern world; teamwork is a concept we all openly accepted and did our best to embrace. What came to be my one week experience with her seemed to put a strain on everyone over the passing few days. Honestly I don't think that she was ever ready for the "culture shock" of the island and all that came with it; that part is understandable, because hell, we all went through that same phase. The difference is that we were all able to see the good in everything and with that, overcome any fears or trepidations we had buried within ourselves.
Those first three days were a bit brutal with her for the sole reason that we did our best giving her positive reinforcement essentially any time we had with her whether alone or in a group. After that three day trial however, patience was starting to wear thin, and her complete sense of disconnect wasn't helping. Don't get me wrong, I along with the rest of the roomies, wished that we could all jive together and sing kumbayah while playing twenty rounds of UNO, but not everyone is built for this experience. That's fine. With her though, it was brutal.
As her stay with us progressed, it was the first time I had felt any tension and stress within our family; the need to constantly hold her hand through the transitioning drained us all mentally while picking up her shifts patrolling the beach or the hatchery depleted what was left of us physically. We were always there for each other, because we cared about one another and it showed by our everyday interactions. What looked like an extra pair of hands to help with the place, turned to be an extra load of weight that we later seemed to want distance from; that's what eventually happened.
The scariest part to me wasn't the fact that distance seemed to be created between her and the pack, but that we were somehow stepping away from each other. The shadow of negativity that never seemed to leave Heidi, felt like it was slowly starting to overshadow our group completely. She was the elephant in the room, whether she was present or not, and that's what became dangerous. When some one's presence can wield so much energy but in such an awkward way, something has to be done. Yet there lays the problem: nothing could be done. We were all together for the X amount of time that we were all designated to be on the island; granted one could always leave sooner than their planned exit date, but no one had that intention on their mind. So we did the best we could with the cards we were dealt.
Come Sunday night of the 20th, somewhere in the area of 2am after a grueling night patrol, Heidi and I are heading back to our base camp, when THUNK! Heidi screams and I just freeze for a second, not knowing what had just happened. "That's it!! I'm getting a boat in the morning and getting out of here!" She screamed, me still bewildered and teetering on the point of exhaustion, struggled to figure out what had just happened. At the moment of her yelp, she apparently had stubbed her toe against a tree root. Mind you, this late in the game, we had all stubbed our toes on any one of the million things on that piece of land possible; as for myself, my feet were so swollen that nothing phased me. With the very little light being offered by my headlamp, noting that I there was too much cloud coverage to recharge my batteries earlier that day, we both saw that it was indeed a head on toe stubbing in progress; again though, painful, but nothing to really cry home about.
True to her word though, that next morning while relaxing after our garden shift with the two new additions, a boat showed up and whisked her away. It was odd because by this point my three other comrades had left and were replaced with two new ones, and yet I remember their departures being much more heart wrenching than this one. We all said our goodbyes and waved her adieu from our earthen dock and that was it.
She brought with her some laughter, yet was never able to fully embrace the energy of the island and of the people who tried so hard to help her see the good in it all. While seeing her boat putter off into the river horizon, I sat there wishing her well on her journey with hopes that she would be able to embrace all her other traveling experiences with a more open and positive heart... to this day I still do.
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