| OCR Text |
Show Fair Forever • • 34 In the faint light, J notice the bulge of a sail to the south, returning to shore. Someone has enjoyed the last of the summer breezes. Soon, a gale will blow from the northeast and usher in fall. Skies will turn leaden and an angry sea will march-white capped soldiers against sails and skiffs and breakwaters. I watched the march from my catwalk last year. In September and October the sea had marched. In November and December the sea had still marched. Finally, on the day before Christmas, the sun broke through. A truce had been called. I remember wearing a jacket and walking to my dock, coughing and wheezing and leaning against a post. To the south I had seen the same white sail. Someone had claimed the sunshine and, in wonder, seized the day.. That's when I noticed my own skiff, Fair Forever. She was out of the water, leaning against the dock like an old man with a cane. I had understood. I was exactly like my skiff-pulled from the sea, tucked away and protected. That was the day I trudged back to my house and panted up my stairs. I sat on my catwalk and wheezed and coughed. I hadn't returned. I hadn't returned until Amanda came!.; > , , • .. "We could meet at the lighthouse, Cornelius" I call out. "Like you did with Amanda." My voice trails over the water, fading toward the horizon., "You told her that day what she needed to do. Maybe you could tell me, too." |
