Storms to Rays

Back and forth, forth and back, the rocking never ceases. I hear the battering of the gale that rushes outside of these fiberglass walls. The snap of lines and crash of waves fills the air. It is turmoil, but what is to be done?

Another day of sitting in place. The anchor holds yet that is the only relief to my body. My spirit chafes at the inability to move. Rising from my bed I duck the hall to the galley. The timing is perfect, so that with the rise of the boat I crack my head against the low ceiling. Another day indeed.

In the kitchen my fingers feel the familiar switch for the gas, and with a click the stove springs to life. Caffeine is surely needed, if I can’t leave I’d still like to wipe away the fog. Soon the water boils and eggs sizzle. Paired with a wonderfully ripe avocado my spirits can’t help but rise.

Chores come next and it’s on to the deck. Stepping through the hatch I’m met with dark skies and white seas. I pull my jacket tight against the cool wind and work down the deck. Lowering my gravity and planting my feet I head towards the aft.

As my floating home rides the waves so too does my smaller vessel, albeit with much less grace. Her safety corners my thoughts nearly as much as the ships. Without the tender, shore becomes much more distant than I’d care to think about. After tightening down her lines it’s the bow that calls.

One must either be an acrobat or successful drunk to trapeze the deck as she comes up and down. It’s at the other end of my vessel I find the anchor chain. The chain is taut, enough to match the weather but not so much to provide distress. There is a special balance of anchoring in a busy area. You need enough chain to hold you down, but not so much to swing into your neighbor. Today, it seems I have it just right.

Back below, I breath in the aroma of my coffee waiting. Warming my hands against the mug I gear my mind towards what goals the day should hold. Even though I cannot leave I’m granted no reason for stagnancy. First, I pull my daily reading from the shelf. Courage is calling. A reminder that I am not called into fear but the courage to brave the challenges of the unknown and known alike.

Then it is to school. My practical skills are ever honed, but a captain should also have the knowledge of those before and around him as well. Why wear myself down recreating the wheel when the instructions are plainly left for me.

As the time passes something in the air changes. Taking a moment I hear… Nothing. Peaking towards the sky there is naught but sun and bright blue. A gentle breeze caresses the turquoise waters that encompass me. Ducking into the galley with a sly grin creeping up, I address my compatriot and ask, “Bro, want to go get some beers?”

Static buzzes the air, we cheer, we smile and we make our way to shore. Not into the maelstrom of past days, but a pleasantness that eases the soul. We tie our craft to the dock and mosey onward, underneath palm trees and down the road we go. It is not long before we arrive to our destination.

With a laugh we walk through the arch into Schooners Wharf and take our seats. Cold beers in hand we toast to one more day of life, a fresh chance at success, and to living out the dreams that fill our sleep. And I can’t help but think, “damn, isn’t life good.”