12^th May, 2011

The waves grew. The jolting exhausted Heidi physically, while the empty horizon undermined her spirits. She realized that no matter how long the day was-she had flown several hours ahead of the sun-it would come to an end. Ahead lay a night in the ocean.

Why had it happened to her? After all, it did not happen to everybody. That hurt.

The waves rumbled and roared. Strange things were going on with the ocean. High in the tropical sky purple and pink shadows gathered. Bright white clouds that lit up the darkness to man lived for its own beauty. Heidi looked away. She felt like a child, cruelly abandoned by everyone.

Heidi was the offspring of the human race.

The Cessna was still afloat. But clearly, if the waves rose by just one more point it would all be over.

“And I’ll be washed into the drink,” was Heidi’s chilling conclusion.

The more she thought about night and the waves, the more it brought to mind land. The firmness and reliability of land now seemed like a sacred gift. That morning it would not have occurred to her. Now Heidi could have given her youth for the chance to feel the earth under her feet-rocky, soft, dry, damp, bare, and grassy. The earth under his feet-that is all a person needs. That first. Everything else comes later.

Fate is not fair. Heidi was clinging to a stabilizer that was gradually slipping away. She still believed she might be rescued. Most who believe perish. Only in a very few instances are those who believe rescue. It is, however, not the majority, who believe and perish, who are remembered, but those few who believe and survive.

From – No Man Is An Island

Written by Gennady Bocharov