I am on this 15-deck ship with 3,000-plus people that I have never seen before in my life. I could sit and eat alone, but here is an opportunity to connect with many different people, and perhaps make friends. So, I will ask to join these two ladies. I am meeting Sally and Mary. Sally had been married 30-some years, divorced but a year. Mary was married for 47 years, but her husband had died 4 years ago. They are traveling together, but each in a very different place in life. Mary gets up to get more food. Sally seems sad, and I share with her that I recently broke up with someone, and that there is a grieving process. Mary returns, and within a few seconds says, “I just went to get some eggs, and what is all thisdepressing talk? We don’t need that!! Look at the gifts you have!” She is obviously annoyed, and I feel a little insulted. After all, I was being kind and empathetic to her friend, and she was scolding us both for that! She repeated: “Look at the gifts you have! Look at the water! Have you ever seen that many shades of blue? Well, have you??” Being fearful of water, I hadn’t looked that closely at it. We are in the Oceanview Café on Deck 14, aptly named because you can view the ocean below. Despite my fear, I realize that I am protected by a safe, thick wall of glass. I had to look; she was demanding I look. I saw a blue kaleidoscope, patterns ever-changing as the ship continued forward, cutting the surface tension. Some frothy white meringue embellished the free-flowing designs. I stared at it, mesmerized by the gifts I never saw, because I was too afraid, because I was focused inward, on what I didn’t have. She is right. When I get home, I will remember to look at the gifts I have!