The Ocean Doesn’t Take Appointments
We boarded the whale-watching boat at Hyannis with one simple objective:
Find a whale.
The instructions seemed straightforward enough.
Go out to sea.
Look at the ocean.
Wait.
The last part, as it turned out, was entirely up to the whale.
We had cameras ready.
Phones ready.
Eyes scanning the horizon.
Everyone seemed prepared for the great moment.
The whales, apparently, had not received the schedule.
And then they began to appear.
And then—there it was.
First a spout rising from the water.
Then a dark back breaking the surface.
Then another.
Two humpbacks, briefly above the surface.
For a few precious seconds, these enormous creatures revealed themselves to us before slipping quietly back beneath the waves.
Click. Click. Click.
We were beginning to get the hang of it.
And then, without warning, one of them breached.
For one glorious, impossible moment, this enormous creature launched itself out of the water.
We all saw it.
Nobody photographed it.
It happened too quickly.
By the time our cameras were pointed in the right direction, the whale was back where it belonged—underwater.
And somehow, I think that made the moment even more special.
We are so accustomed to photographs, videos and screens that we expect everything worth seeing to remain available for us to capture, replay and share.
But the ocean doesn’t work that way.
The whale appears when it chooses.
The moment arrives when it arrives.
And then it is gone.
And then, a wave goodbye.
Perhaps that’s part of the wonder.
Some moments are meant to be witnessed, not captured.
We went looking for whales.
What we found was also a little lesson in patience.
And a reminder that the world doesn’t always perform on demand.
Sometimes you just have to wait, watch—and be ready when it decides to say hello.
WORDSOUPS 