My colorless green ideas

The boat cried a dull roar as the revving motor stopped. Cautiously, the long hull of the boat nosed into the waters and threaded its way to the island. As soon as its bottom squatted on the shore, I jumped out of the boat.

“Turtle Island,” the boatman said.

My eyes scoured for turtles, but all I saw were a shabby nipa hut and an old man sitting on a slab of driftwood.

“He’s the caretaker,” the boatman pointed out.

The man’s faded brown wrinkled skin creased into a weak smile, as if he had seen one too many tourists. Uncountable frown lines were drawn across his forehead and round his weary eyes. Then, he pointed to the sign that says P5.00 entrance fee. His hands were shaking. With his age, I wondered how long he had been staying there.

After paying, the boatman gestured his finger to a concrete tank. Inside was a lone sea turtle. Frail and gentle, the turtle could barely move nor swim around the concrete enclosure. I asked if I could take it out. The old man nodded.

The turtle was heavy. Its shell, which had beautiful patterns of distinct brown plates, was sturdy and robust. It had an elongated head and somewhat sharp facial look. It had a mouth that looked like the sharp beak of a bird. The boatman said it was a pawikan or hawksbill turtle.

I let it crawl. l watched the turtle as its arms plowed onto the white sand. Slowly, its scaly feet plodded until it reached the blue ocean. Where it truly belong, I thought.

I looked at the old man. His face was calm and serene. He was not taken aback by the turtle’s flight.

“Sea turtles are natural travelers that can swim all over the world, but still go back to the same spot where they broke out of their shell. When it is time to lay their eggs, they return and find their way back,” the boatman said.

By looking at the old man, I knew. My folks were waiting for me to come home, too.