Our last stop was meant to be St. John’s, Newfoundland, and we were filled with excitement. We hoped to reconnect with our dear friends Elizabeth and Hughie, who had hosted us so generously last year during a 15-day tour of Newfoundland—a journey rich with warmth, laughter, and unforgettable kindness.

It was uncertain whether they’d be in town, as they were hosting out-of-town friends themselves. But as it happened, they had rearranged their schedule and purchased tickets to see a show in Gander—plans that would place them in St. John’s just as our ship was set to dock. A happy coincidence, or so we thought.

Then came the high winds.

With weather turning foul, our ship was diverted to Corner Brook—a port just fifteen minutes from their home in Pasadena. So close. But they were eight hours away, in St. John’s, with their guests, waiting for curtain calls and enjoying the city.

It was a disappointing twist, the kind that leaves you quiet and wistful. We were within reach of a reunion, a warm hug, a shared laugh—and yet, the winds had other plans. Still, knowing they were nearby, even if unknowingly, brought a strange sort of comfort. The connection remained, even if the moment slipped away.