Nostalgia’s Awkward Timing

Last night my husband and I watched The Perfect Storm after my mother had highly recommended it for many years now. We had the window air conditioning unit turned on to “medium cool” due to the warm weather in Brimfield that day. Our room was dark and chilly, the tip of my nose felt as solid as an ice cube. Justin and I crawled into our king size bed with fresh sheets and blankets that smelled like my floral fabric softener. Once we were lying together I could slowly feel my nose and finger tips warm up. It was officially time to start our nightly movie… a habit in our home that I look forward to every day.

The movie started with ocean scenes and shots of fishermen living their dreams. The movie painted such an accurate portrait of what a fisherman’s life is really like; I couldn’t help but feel like I was a part of that. The camera shots were so beautiful; you could almost smell the ocean through the television. All of a sudden I felt like my past had come back to me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Here I was, in Northeast Ohio, lying in the arms of husband, living my ideal definition of a good life- why was this sort-of homesick feeling rushing over me?

I cannot remember how many times I went out on the boats with my dad, a fisherman in Destin, Florida. The boats in The Perfect Storm were strikingly similar to the boats I had been on as a little girl. I remember the boats being filthy with fish scales and guts, but it wasn’t so filthy that I didn’t wanna go out with the boys. My little brother was part of the crew, all the boys were- and age doesn’t matter on a boat, they all had to pull their own weight. But I was one of only two girls, we never had to do anything, just enjoy the ocean. And I did.

I never cared for my dad growing up; he was never there for my family- financially or emotionally. I honestly cannot remember ever having an attachment to him. Going out on the boats meant that I had to with him, like or not. If you have ever been on a real fishing boat then you understand the romance that can be associated with it. I would have gone out on the boat with anyone, didn’t matter who. I loved reaching our destination and looking out from the deck and only seeing ocean- for miles and miles. I loved watching the men work so hard to pull the fish in. I loved going down in the ice boxes to play with the other kids. I loved jumping in and swimming in the middle of the ocean. I love watching the dolphins try to keep up with the boat. It is an experience I will never forget.

When the day was over and we came back to shore a new excitement filled the air. All of the kids would jump off the boat and go get popsicles from the residents. The men would unload the fish and the cleaning began. I remember this looking like a small community in its own right. There were dozens and dozens of people around, cleaning fish, counting fish, boxing fish, etc… The workers all came together, making this small fishing site look like a factory. The kids would go check out the new addition to the freezer, usually a shark hanging by its tail. Then we would head over to the giant freezers and play in them, a great way to beat the heat in Florida. Occasionally there were so many fish that we had to leave the small factory and go swim in the ocean to stay out of the way. If we weren’t up for swimming we could gather up some fish heads to take over to some of the stray cats. It seemed as if there were hundreds of stray cats, all with fat bellies full of fish.

When everyone left for the day it seemed eerily calm; the conveyor belts had stopped, the freezers were locked, the boats were tied up, and the voices were gone. I was always amazed that this lively place seemed to die a new death everyday. Nothing but silence and fish scales were left. Going home was my reality- the fishing boats seemed romantic, but home is where my heart wanted to be. I could get warm showers, turn on the television, eat a big supper, and tell my mother about the day.

Like I said in the title, nostalgia’s timing is awkward. I am happy with my life; I wouldn’t change it, so why was The Perfect Storm making me sad? One movie captured enough emotion to bring my past rushing back, making it seem like I was missing out. I look back with fond memories, but I stay in reality- and my reality is here, with my husband, children, and my mom.