Incased in Ice


I can hear the wind howl, announcing its presence as it pushes its way down river and through the masts.  The sound is more eerie than usual because despite its 40 mph gusts Moya, my sailboat stands still, for she is encased in ice.  It is an experience that makes me realize how much her sway has become a part of me.  With out her rocking in the wind I somehow feel empty.   As I walk around in the boat my steps feel solid ground, and each step is an echo reminding me that I have no desire to move back to land.


Each gust of wind begs for the trees, water, and boats to play. At the end of each gust a lull of loneliness hangs in the still air.   The brutal ice has bound its friends, trees, water, and sails.  In those moments of silence I can hear the stiff creaking of the dock, like old arthritic joints.


Inside the boat firelight comforts me.  It is odd how the flicker of a flame can sooth anxiety built from a storm, and I am not alone in this opinion.  Henry has placed himself in the best seat for a firelight view.


Observing his complete contentment I realize that I am also in a place of calm mind, I look to Sean cooking and reveling in the moment. We look at each other and without words we know that we are both in love with this life.



If it not for this life we wouldn’t know the true comfort of fire, we would not feel the bitter cold wind, and we would not have recognized the moment.  That beautiful moment of feeling awake.


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