Aloha to His Perfect Angel

We had planned to do some shopping together in Ensenada during the final port call of this cruise. As most would have expected, there would be trinket shopping and a stop at Hussong's before searching a modicum of contraband.

Being laid up just a bit, we decided that I would stay on the ship while Danny did the carousing in town. He knows the way, the targets and the right prices. So, off he went, pausing to waive just after disembarking.

Being adventurous, I decided it would be alright for me to step on shore. There were sea lions basking and barking nearby, and I wanted to get a picture, if possible. Got it!

Being curious, a visit of my own to the nearby trinket shops seemed in order. Absolutely nothing caught my eye except for tons of stuff I figured to be worthless. Mexican silver can be high quality, but not if purchased from sidewalk vendors. Being prudent, I kept my wallet closed.

Being cold, I returned to the ship, to the comfort of a warm cup of coffee and a Lido Deck perch to watch the returning shuttles to see if I could spot Danny's return.

Being later than I had thought, Dan was already back onboard; he walked up behind me as I watched down for him. He had accomplished his mission, and we are about to become outlaws, but DON'T TELL A SOUL. If we get away with it, we'll tell you all about it. If we get caught, you'll read it in the news.

Being done in by another great cruise, it's time for some sleep as the ship slips us northward toward Los Angeles.

Throughout the cruise, one vision caught my eye nearly every day. A couple, possibly in their late 40s, have been on my mind; allow me to share.

The woman is wheelchair-bound. Very tiny. One notices that she is always smartly dressed, every hair in place -- quite pretty, in fact. Often an observer sees that she keeps in communication with the man by pointing her one usable arm, or by uttering indiscernible sounds, as he pushes her chair from place to place. I have observed them enjoying music in one of the show lounges, and in the casino, where she seemed in control of her slot machine while he kept watch. One evening, they searched diligently together through the walls of passenger photographs, hoping to find any pictures of themselves.

What stood out to me most, though, was that this woman wasn't well dressed by mere chance. Her hair didn't magically fall into place each morning. Obviously, she wasn't crisp and smart appearing by her own doing. Too, during those vocal exchanges, it most certainly wasn't a language you or I would comprehend. Yet, the gentleman always seemed to know what each 'oooh', each 'bluh' and each 'weee' meant.

I have wanted to write a verse for them. I've made pockets full of notes -- pondered long just how to assemble the words that could set their story well enough. Perhaps that will happen in time, but for now, I can only share what I saw. The focused, devoted efforts of a gentle, patient, loving, caring and understanding man aptly displayed his vision. She is 'His Perfect Angel'.