The Captain

The lighthouse had been a refuge for us and, when we left its perimeter, it was a sharp and sudden reminder that we were not out of the woods yet. Actually, our journey had only begun. We arrived at the boat, which was rocking and swaying, as the rough current rhythmically scooped it up and then, with each wave, set it back down in it’s place like the inhalation and exhalation of a slumbering giant. The boat captain whose long trimmed gray hair was blowing in the wind was already on board, and he called out to us, “Hi, there!” While waving one of his arms to get our attention. As we rowed over in a small raft and then climbed onto the boat, the old man of the sea asked, “May I have a look at your tickets, please?” The tickets were thick and had a slot on one side which contained a neatly folded sheet of paper inside, an illustrated topographical map.

We had stuffed our tickets into the care package bag, so we shuffled through the bag momentarily. “Here they are!” one of us exclaimed and then handed the two tickets over to the captain. His solemn eyes scanned them and inspected them carefully.

Then his eyes brightened when he whispered, "You shall both drink from the same chalice yet with different meanings while making this voyage. 
 

He reflected for a moment while he eyes returned to solemn as he handed them back to us and then said, “All right, let’s get going”.