Stranded: spoon, ukelele, yarn, hand sanitizer, feather boa

I had been stranded on the island for almost a year. Luckily, I had company. Company I was sure people would look hard for and would limit our stay to no more than a day or two. But, we had been stranded for almost a year. We learned how to cook over small fires made of the brush from palm trees. At first, the food was always bad, but gradually we learned how to season it, if that is what you could call it, or tolerate the taste. I was not sure which. We bathed in the ocean and built a makeshift shelter lacking any luxuries.

Slowly, we had found the few personal items that had washed up on shore. They provided entertainment, a link to the outside world, a way to question if we still had our sanity. A spoon was used for cooking, the only real utensil we had found. The ukelele provided music as long as the term was defined loosely. No one actually knew how to play it and the salt water had warped much of the wood, making the sounds that we could draw from it sound eerie. It was great for what we assumed Halloween day must have been. I'd used the two large rolls of yarn we found to hand knit blankets. They would have been fit for an infant, but did little for us. Still it was comforting to have something lay across my waist. The bottle of hand sanitizer had been emptied long ago. It was now used to measure out coconut juice for cooking. Three squirts for small fish, 6-7 for large fish. My favorite was the feather boa. It was bright pink and had been used to illicit laughter frequently. It hung in a place of honor just inside our shelter.

Looking at it brought me back to wondering when we would be rescued. Would we ever be rescued? People must have stopped looking for us, assumed we had perished, found some kind of remains pushed far from the island by the currents. I crossed my fingers. It's been almost a year. Please find us soon.

*** Seven Days, Seven Answers ***