Sitting alone in the darkness, I stared at my iPhone's glowing screen. Tapping open the calculator app, I keyed in a simple equation: 365 times 48. The result, 17,520, stared back at me. That was the number of days I had walked through in this life.
In that solitude, I began to sift through the grains of my existence. Sadly, only a few of those 17,520 days held any actual significance. Most of them had slipped by unnoticed, just another ordinary, forgettable 24-hour period marked off on my calendar.
But then there were the unforgettable days—like 9/11 or the day JFK was assassinated—moments that changed everything. We all remember where we were when those events unfolded. They're etched into our brains and souls, impossible to forget.
Today was another one of those immortal days. Deep down, I knew this was a day I'd carry with me forever, but at the same time, a day I wished I could erase from my memory.
I found myself at the kitchen table, unsure how long I had been there—maybe two, three, or even four hours. It had been so long that my legs were numb, and my body felt cold and unfeeling, except for the wetness of my tear-soaked shirt.
I was in my kitchen, gazing out the window, watching the morning sun’s rays play through the glass as it rose over the horizon. The rising sun meant that I couldn't avoid reality much longer. The phone would start ringing, and I’d have to confront the painful truth, but I wasn't ready for that yet.
The thought of facing the day ahead felt unbearable. I didn't know how I would endure it. So, I forced myself to think of something else, to escape from the overwhelming grief and pain consuming me. I let my mind drift back to a happier time—a moment that brought a genuine smile to my face—the day I met Annie.
* * *
It was June 12, 1998, my 23rd birthday. I was a professional singer and musician performing a solo act, just me and my guitar, on a small cruise ship called The Spirit of Glacier Bay. We were doing ten-day cruises based out of Juneau, Alaska, visiting small, quaint towns like Sitka, Skagway, Ketchikan, and Seward. The highlight of the cruise was always Glacier Bay. Often, there were audible gasps and cheers from the passengers at their first breathtaking sight of the massive, 20-story-high, deep blue glaciers. Yes, they are blue. It’s where the term “ice blue” comes from.
That morning was embarkation day, the day we said goodbye to the old passengers and hello to the excited new ones coming on board for their cruise.
In those days, I was a runner; well, to be accurate, I was a jogger. I tried to jog at least three miles every day and six miles once a month. I was itching for a run and was the first in the crew embarkation line to get off the ship that morning. As usual, I was taking a little heckling from the rest of the crew because of my outfit.
My bright yellow and green running shoes, red running shorts, and bright purple sleeveless T-shirt were the problems. A bright orange sweatband was also pulled over my forehead, holding my long hair out of my face.
“Hey Bozo, where’s your red nose and big shoes?” someone yelled.
“Lincoln, your reds don’t match, and the purple shirt is God awful,” one of the pretty dancers added.
I smiled, shaking off the comments. "This isn't supposed to be fashionable,” I yelled back, “I'm just trying not to get run over in the Juneau traffic."
When they finally let us off the ship, I ran down the gangway and headed toward downtown Juneau, running on the road against the traffic, keeping as far to the left lane as possible and dodging the cars along the way.
My usual route in Juneau was to run through the small historic downtown, past all the tourist trinket shops, cut in front of the Red Dog saloon, turn right, and then head across the big bridge that led to an upscale residential area that circled through a neighborhood of beautiful large houses.
From the ship, through downtown, over the bridge, and back to the Red Dog saloon was just over three miles and took me about 30 minutes to complete.
As I made my turn running by the Red Dog Saloon, I heard someone whistle, then yell, "Nice legs!"
I looked over and saw two women standing at the entrance, smiling at me. They looked to be a mother and a daughter because they had the same smile and the same beautiful eyes. The daughter looked 20-ish, and the mom was in her mid-40s. I smiled and continued running, not breaking my stride.
Once again, I heard the whistle. When I looked over, I was shocked to see that it was the mom doing the whistling. I smiled again and waved back at them.
"Great legs!" The daughter and mom yelled in unison.
I laughed out loud, turned around, ran backward, and yelled,
"Thanks."
The weather in Alaska in June is different from what most people expect. It was a perfect day for a run, about 75°, with only a few puffy white clouds floating in the vibrant blue sky, and there was a gentle breeze blowing at maybe 10 miles an hour... perfect.
When I made it back to the Red Dog Saloon, I looked around, but the whistlers were not there. After drinking a beer to cool off and receiving a little more ridicule about my colorful outfit from the ship's crew members in the saloon, I walked back to the ship.
After a long-needed shower, not wanting any more grief over my clothing choices, I put on a pair of light brown khaki cargo shorts, a light blue collared golf shirt, and brown leather deck shoes. Before leaving my cabin, I checked my reflection in the mirror, making sure nothing clashed.
Hungry, I walked up the stairs to the top deck and entered the dining room.
When I reached the buffet line, I heard someone behind me shout, "Hey, Mom, look, it's Legs!"
I turned to see the two whistlers sitting at a window table with an older man.
"Oh, no!" I said with a grin. "Not you two again!"
They both gave me those beautiful smiles. "Are you taking this cruise too?" the daughter asked.
"Well, actually, I'm part of your entertainment for the next seven days. I sing and play guitar every night in the Birds Nest Lounge."
"What time do you start?" the mom asked.
"I'm there every night from eight to twelve,” I said, walking up to their table. "But if you come, you have to promise not to whistle at me. I don't want to have to report you to the captain for sexual harassment."
The daughter's blue eyes sparkled as she laughed. "I promise, but," she pointed at her mother, "you never know what Mamma Mia might do."
Her mom gave me a wide grin. "Well, dreamboat," she said with a chuckle, “that will depend on what you're wearing on that stage. If it's the shorts you had on earlier today… I’ll be whistling!”
I looked over at the older man sitting with them, held out my hand, and said, "I'm presuming you are Dad? Sir, you're a brave man. You've got your hands full, keeping these two in line. I'm Lincoln West; it's nice to meet you."
He shook my hand and smiled. "Right back at you. Nice to meet you, Lincoln. I'm Jack, Jack Black. And you're right about these two. I see you've already met my wife, Mia, and my daughter, Annie. And before you ask, no, there's no relation to that movie star that stole my damn name." That must have been an inside family joke because the girls burst out laughing when he said it.
I watched the three of them laugh. This was a happy family, and they knew how to have fun together. I liked them instantly. Of course, when they came to see me perform that night, when they walked in, Mia, the mom, had to whistle at least once.
I spent every spare minute with them for the next ten days of their cruise. Each night after my sets, Annie and I would go out alone and sit on the ship's back deck, drinking wine and watching the luminescent trails streaming behind the ship, talking. That was the beginning for us. After their cruise, Annie and I talked every day on the phone for hours.
As a guest entertainer, I was allowed to bring a guest on a cruise who stayed with me in my cabin, so Annie joined me twice over the summer. On her second visit, she didn't sleep well on the last night of the cruise, and her restlessness woke me up. She was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Can't sleep?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Too much on my mind, I guess."
I raised up, hung my feet over the side of the bed, and put my arm around her. "What's so heavy on your mind? What are you thinking about?"
It was dark in the cabin, but a soft glow of moonlight streaming through the porthole lit up the room. In the shadow, I could see her shoulders shrug.
"It's... it's nothing, just something silly."
"If it's keeping you up at night, it can't be that silly.
Come on, tell me. What is it?"
I flipped on the light so I could see her face. Her eyes were red and wet. "Annie, you're crying. What's wrong? What have I done?"
She glanced over at me and smiled. "That's the problem,
Lincoln. You haven't done anything wrong. The problem is... I think I'm falling in love with you."
I smiled wide. “That sounds like a good thing to me. How can that be a problem?"
She stood up, walked to the small desk, and sat in the chair facing me. "Lincoln, I am an accountant. I live in Dallas with my parents. I have a real job, a nine-to-five, regular, really boring job. You are a singer on a cruise ship in Alaska! Understand? A singer on a cruise ship in Alaska!" She repeated louder. “I can't fall in love with you. How could this ever work?"
This had come out of nowhere, and I wasn't sure what to say. "Please don't cry. What do you want me to say? I thought you were having fun being here with me."
She wiped her eyes. "I love being here, but..."
"But what?"
"But I can't help wondering when I leave tomorrow... will another girl be flying in and sharing this cabin with you on the next cruise?"
I reached out and took her hand. "Of course not. Is that what this is all about, other women?"
She sighed. "Lincoln, look at you. You're beautiful. I see how women react to you. I can't compete with that. The truth is… I don't want to compete with that; that's not who I am."
"Annie, I'm not going to lie. There have been other women in my life, and yes, I've had a few of them come on cruises and stay with me here in this cabin."
"I knew it," she said, crying again.
I pulled her out of the chair into my lap. "Please don't cry. I hate it when you're sad. You didn't let me finish."
I took her face in my hand and gently kissed her wet cheeks and pouting lips. "Yes, you are right… there have been other women in my life, but that was before… I kissed her again… before I found you."
* * *
When my cruise ship contract ended, I found a gig at a hotel in Dallas and moved into a small apartment a few miles away from Annie’s.
After a few months, she moved in with me. We were so happy there. The only thing we ever argued about was my music. She continued to be jealous of other women who came to see me perform, so for her, without any real trepidation, I walked away from my gig, quit singing, and found a real job working in construction. Apparently, I was good at it, and after a few months, my boss gave me a promotion and a raise.
Annie and I were married a year later, in Jack and Mia's backyard, standing under an ornately carved wooden arch Jack had made in his garage, covered with beautiful flowers. A few years later, I was promoted to project manager and moved from our tiny apartment to a brand new house Annie helped design. The day we moved into that house was one of those I'll never forget days. When she opened the front door, she immediately started crying, but they were tears of joy. I had never seen Annie that happy before.
* * *
Although we both wanted to have children desperately, it wasn't in the cards for us. We began trying to get pregnant after we moved into our new house with no success. Then, one day, Annie had severe pain in her stomach that led us to several doctors and specialists before we discovered what was wrong. Annie had endometriosis. She had extra tissue growing outside of her uterus, which was the cause of her infertility. After three surgeries trying to correct the problem and stop her pain, with no real improvement, the doctors advised her to have a hysterectomy.
Acknowledging that we would have no children of our own was difficult for us initially, but eventually, we accepted it and moved on with our lives. We often discussed the possibility of adoption but never followed through with it.
Without the responsibility and cost of raising children, between our two jobs, we had extra disposable income that we spent traveling on cruise ships for almost ten years. It was our time to rekindle our marriage and reminisce about how we met and first fell in love. It was a magical time in our lives.
Not having children allowed us to take a few more gambles with our future. In the eleventh year of our marriage, we took out a second mortgage on our house and opened our own construction company, West and Associates. I ran the job sites, and Annie found the new projects and kept the books.
For some married couples, working side-by-side like that, 24 hours a day, would not have worked. But for us, it did, and we loved it. We made a perfect team. On the job site, we might scream and holler at each other about something we disagreed on, but we never took that anger home. We couldn't imagine spending our days apart as most people did. We loved being together all day.
Our construction company specialized in small commercial office buildings and large custom homes. In less than 12 years, our little company earned a five-star reputation and was recognized as one of Texas’s top small construction companies. That's the good part. The bad part was that we had to stop cruising because of our success and hadn't had a vacation in years.
For months, Annie and I talked about taking some time off when we finished our latest project and going on a long cruise like we used to. But then, in March 2020, COVID-19 showed up, locked down everything, shut down the entire cruise industry, ended our sailing dreams... and shattered my world into small pieces.
