My wife, Sarah, and I were visiting a turtle sanctuary in the Cayman Islands as part of a cruise we took to commemorate our 11th wedding anniversary. Each stop along our journey included various excursions. While we enjoy being tourists, we’re not the type to wander off on our own adventures, so we opted for guided tours. This particular outing was Sarah’s choice, and truth be told, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.
Turtles have never been my thing. I find them neither adorable nor cuddly; my only real reference point is the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which are fictional characters and far removed from the reality of a large reptile gliding through the ocean.
However, once I laid eyes on the impressive 500-pound creatures, my perspective shifted. The sun beat down, and the air was thick with the scent of animals and saltwater. The turtles splashed around, making grunting noises.
“These creatures are incredible,” I remarked.
Sarah beamed. “I told you! You can have fun at a turtle sanctuary.”
I nodded in agreement.
We moved from one group of turtles to the next, each more impressive than the last, with their massive shells and beak-like mouths. There was hardly anything separating us from them, aside from a sign that read, “Do not touch the turtles.”
“Why can’t we touch them?” I asked.
Sarah shrugged but shot me a look that seemed to say, “Don’t even think about it.”
At that moment, our guide interjected, explaining, “These turtles have powerful jaws. They can bite through another turtle’s shell, and your fingers might resemble the food they eat.” He continued with a cautionary note: “One could easily bite through your entire hand, which would be unfortunate for both you and the turtle.”
As if on cue, a turtle swam over to me. It appeared so gentle and approachable. I figured I wouldn’t have another chance to touch such a magnificent creature. While it wasn’t a lifelong aspiration of mine, the allure of reaching out was overwhelming. Perhaps it’s a childish impulse, but when faced with a “do not touch” sign, I felt compelled to test the waters.
So, when Sarah turned her back and the guide led the group to the next tank, I reached out and touched the turtle’s shell. I was sure I was out of harm’s way, believing its shell would be unresponsive. I was mistaken. The turtle lifted a flipper and swatted my arm, as if inviting me into its mouth. It grunted loudly and swam away. Water splashed everywhere, and I quickly retracted my hand just as Sarah turned around.
Her expression said it all.
“Really?” she exclaimed. “They said not to touch the turtle, and what do you do? You touch it.”
I raised my hand defensively. “Look! I’m fine!”
“What if you’d lost your hand?” she replied.
“But I didn’t!” I insisted, holding my hand up again. “Everything’s okay.”
We lingered by the tank for a bit longer. I sensed that Sarah wasn’t angry, just disappointed. She wore that familiar expression she gives our son when he tries to stick his hand out the van window while we drive—a mixture of concern and “you should know better.” The catch? I’m not her child; I’m her husband. I should be aware of the rules, and it’s not her responsibility to remind me. And deep down, I knew better; I had been warned and chose to disregard it. I recalled hearing mothers of three joke about having four kids, including their husbands, and for once, the saying didn’t seem so far-fetched.
“Wait a minute,” I said playfully. “If I lost my hand to a turtle, would you still love me?”
I was attempting to lighten the mood, and it somewhat worked; she gave me a faint smile. But then, hands on her hips, she replied, “Honestly, if you lost your hand, I’d have to explain to people that my husband, an adult, lost his hand to a sea turtle. I’m not saying I’d leave you, but it would take time to get over how foolish that would be.”
That thought reminded me of a funny moment from a show I watched, where a character lost his hand to a seal. It was comedic on-screen, but in real life, it would certainly be embarrassing. At that moment, I recognized my own foolishness. I was that guy—the one who, despite warnings, still touched the turtle. Had I lost my hand, I would have become a trending topic on social media. Most importantly, Sarah would have been connected to my folly, and who would want to be married to someone that reckless?
After a period of silence, I processed my emotions. Initially, I felt picked on, but by the time we boarded the bus back to our ship, I turned to Sarah and said, “I’m sorry I touched the turtle.”
“It’s okay,” she replied. “I still love you.”
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Summary:
In a humorous recount of a turtle sanctuary visit, Jake reflects on his impulsive decision to touch a turtle despite warnings. This moment leads him to realize the dynamics of his relationship with his wife, Sarah, and the lighthearted banter that follows highlights the playful yet serious nature of their partnership.