Standing on the island at the center of the world, I could look out and see the horizon beckoning in the distance. My love and I had arrived here with a simple purpose: the theft of an onion. Which onion? The onion. The only onion.

To steal the onion, we would need a boat, then then it would be just us, the onion, and that horizon. We looked all over the island, but none of the boats were the right size. It’s funny how difficult it can be to find a boat large enough to fit something that can be held in one hand. Each boat was either too small or too large, until we came across the perfect boat.

After the boat was acquired it was easy; we took the onion and ran. Who did we take it from? Why did we run? These were not questions to be asked while we made our bold escape.

We sailed off towards the sunset, reaching towards that horizon, the edge of the world. As our bow cleared the edge, I realized that the edge was not the edge that I thought it to be. In front of us stretch a series of edges, each one identical to the one before, ten or fifteen feet of beautiful waterfall to the next patch of calm water reflecting the orange of the setting sun.

One boat could not be enough for such a vista, and my love, close to my heart as she is, produced a potato. She carved it quickly and deliberately, until a second boat was created. As our little fleet landed heavily in the water of the next layer, I felt warm and at peace.

NOTES

I did grow up sailing small boats.

I don’t particularly like tropical vacations, but if they felt like this, I would. Through this whole dream I felt very warm and safe.

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