I live on Grief Island, population: one. It’s a pretty dark and lonely place with lots of shadows. The weather is inclement and unpredictable which means it’s definitely not a vacation destination.
Occasionally, people will wave to me from their boats miles from the shore of my island. I can see them waving and I can see that their mouths are moving, but the distance between us is too great for me to hear what they’re saying. Sometimes a plane will fly overhead with a banner trailing behind, “Everything Happens for a Reason!! Stay Strong!! Time Heals All Wounds!!”
I spend a lot of my time on the island aimlessly wandering around in the shadows, trying to anticipate the weather. I’ve tried to light a fire for warmth and light but as soon as it gets going, the clouds open up and the rain puts it out.
Rarely, someone will swim out to see me on the island. I know it’s a long way so I am always so surprised and delighted to have a visitor. People don’t usually stay long, which I understand (the weather, the shadows) but, even after they leave, the sun comes out for a little while.