The sun was setting low on the horizon, casting paint-splatters of reds, golds, pinks, yellows and oranges across the churning waters. It had been many years since this vast array of people had found themselves happily stranded on this great, exotic land.. Some had been lost over the years. Some had gone astray or gone home. But before they had they carved their names into trees.
We will never forget them.
We’ve lost more on this day, and as tribute we set up candles and had a great feast with jokes and laughter and tears and so many stories to tell. Challenges met and conquered. Friends made and lost.
And on this day; on this beautiful, warm night, with the waves lapping at our toes and a low hum shared between all our hearts, we stand and watch as the sun dips down to sleep on this, our final day. Each of us holds a single paper boat, marked with our own ink-bound tales of woe and beauty.
We set them to water, and watch them drift.
To where, we are unsure.
But that’s kind of fantastic, isn’t it?