A Red Boat

Summer of 1997 found me in Aberystwyth, Wales. I was there for a few months as part of a two year mission for my church in south west England and south Wales. Every Saturday, we would go to an 'old folks' home to provide service for some of the residents there. Usually, we would sit and chat with the ladies there (there were only one or two men, and they weren't very talkative) and then afterwards we would pick up a few bits of shopping for them.

There was one particular woman there, who had a seat right by the window. This particular place had an ideal location in that it looked right out on to the promenade in Aberystwyth, meaning that she had a perfect view of the Irish Sea (the picture is looking down on to the promenade). There she would sit every day and watch people walking along the promenade or watching what was going on out on the water. She was a typical resident of an old folks home, grayed hair, a wrinkled face, and a certain sense of peace. That certain "peace" that you can't quite be sure if the woman was thoughtful of the wonderful life she had led, or if she was feeling alone and left out as her book of life was now nearing its last page. On her face she had two moles, each with several white hairs stretching out from the surface yearning to be noticed.
There she would sit everyday, probably almost all day, staring out the window.

Usually I would come up and greet this great lady and talk with her for a while. The conversations were almost always the same, and usually repeated about 4 times in the span of about fifteen minutes. "Now where are you from?" she would ask.

"I am from America, from a state called Utah."

"Oh, Utah, how I love Utah," acting as if she knew where it was, "what a wonderful place, Utah. I hear it is very beautiful."

"Yes it is very nice."

"I suppose when you go back, everyone will come and ask you, 'Now what are those Welshies REALLY like."

"I'll, say, oh they are just wonderful, wonderful people." Now, I must admit at this point, that no one has ever asked me "What are those Welshies really like?" In fact, I don't think most Americans could point to Wales on a map. At the time of this story, I knew this fact, however, I thought it best not to mention it, and responded how I would respond if someone were to ever ask.

"Oh, that's so sweet." She would say with a smile. Then she would stare off to the sea for a while. "Now where did you say you were from?"

"Utah."

"Oh, Utah, how wonderful. I imagine when you get back, everyone will ask you, 'what are those Welshies REALLY like?'"

"Oh, I'll say, 'they are wonderful.'"

You get the idea.

One particular Saturday, I decided I was going to control the conversation a bit. There we were, sitting, staring out at the sea, and there, floatin past on the sea was a red boat.

"Do you see that?" I said. "A red boat!"

"A red boat? Wow, I have never seen a red boat before, what a wonderful sight to see on the sea."

"I know, isn't it beautiful? What a sight, a red boat."

"Now where are you from...?"

A bit of time passes as we launch into the usual conversation, and I soon say, "Did you see that red boat on the sea this morning?

"Yes! Wasn't that amazing?! A red boat! I had never seen a red boat out on the sea before."

"Yes, it was a beautiful red boat."

Again time passes, and it is about time for us to leave and go shopping for the ladies, but before we leave I ask, "Did you see that red boat on the sea this morning?"

"A red boat?! No! You know I have never seen a red boat before, I bet that would be a great sight to see."