An enormous sea turtle appeared on the dusky beach with a helpful push from high tide. Word spread quickly among beachcombers taking an evening stroll. A crowd gathered to get a glimpse of the gentle giant who batted her large, sleepy eyes as if seeing alien beings for the first time.
The loggerhead laboriously planted her fore flippers and pushed her beak-like mouth in the thick sand to slowly pull herself forward with one purpose in mind. No telling what she had gone through to reach this particular spot on Hilton Head Island to lay her eggs.
Most of the onlookers remained a respectful distance and watched the beautiful creature in awe, but others moved closer and closer. They clamored over one another to take selfies. A dog’s owner allowed it to jump and yap furiously a foot from the turtle’s thick, calloused face. A young couple actually attempted to perch their baby on the turtle’s three-foot long carapace. Their plan for the perfect Instagram post was thwarted by a tiny but mighty woman with brown leathered skin wearing a Volunteer Sea Turtle Patrol T-shirt.
The turtle’s sad expression was one of exhaustion, stress, and recognition that she is an endangered species. She stopped moving and seemed to stoically wait for the will to push past the noise and narcissism. Sea turtles can’t retract into their shells, though she looked like she wanted to. At last, she stopped struggling, gave in, and allowed several big waves take her back out to sea.
Sea turtles undergo epic oceanic journeys and return to the exact spot they were born to mate and lay their own eggs. With this kind of wisdom, it’s likely she chose to return to the ocean out of sagacity, not defeat.
I’ve felt a lot like that turtle lately.
I squeeze my eyes open and shut, not quite believing what I see.
I shake my head slowly from side to side, not quite believing what I hear.
And sometimes, I go into my proverbial shell and just let it all crash over me.
It’s been nearly a month, but I still think of that loggerhead sea turtle. I hope she’s happily swimming through tranquil deep blue water fully recovered from the world’s madness. I wish I could send out a bottle carrying her a message of sympathy and solidarity ~ I’ve been there, my friend. We’ve all been there. Sometimes the wisest, most logical thing to do is quietly retreat to regroup and regain our strength and sense of self. Be well, beautiful turtle, be well. §