Sailing

The line felt good in my hand. The wood that pushes against the water is a good vessel. I pull hard and feel the wind through the sail haul back against the raised tension. The boat leaning into the turn. Water splashes, waking me to the speed of the ship. Looking at the horizon, seeing the dark bluish gray clouds rising towards the sky, rising to greet me. I tack to the north trying to get a better angle, seeing if I can make port without rain or lightning. Knowing full well I will be in the thick of the storm shortly, I stow what I can as I draw the lines in, putting them where I can get to them without a hassle. The longest task is getting the jib securely tied down. The sprinkling starts shortly after I get back to my seat. Water is all around me now. My rain gear below, the weather is warm enough, anyways, the rain feels goods. The first lightning strike falls two hundred yards away, bringing with it the thunder that I have yearned to feel through my soul. A smile appears as the Ëthunder rolls off into the distance. Small chop turns to swells, then to big waves, washing water over the sides. The ship starts to yawn and pitch with the waves. Loosening the lines a little to have more time to react if the wind decides to push from the other way I keep her pointed in the right direction. Wanting neither to fight the winds nor battle the waves to tack into a better position. The quickest way out is straight, maybe with a little zigzagging, but straight. I laugh as I pull the rudder against my side, looking out to the water, electricity and clouds that are welcome guests to my voyage. The ship whips to port throwing me into the side. I struggle back to my seat, put the rudder back in my hand and get things right again. The waves come at me from all directions. I turn the ship starboard seeking the correct heading on the compass. The longitude works its way around the dial and I pull the rudder straight. Gaining the correct direction, the wind billows the sail and pulls the boat along. Getting her back up to speed, the worst of the storm behind me, shivering with the cool gusts I settle back and enjoy the weather. I watch the clouds overhead blow quickly by. The lower wisps strike out and fly swiftly below the higher cloud banks. Waves gradually begin their descent into the waters. Still, the thunder bellows and I can hear the sound raise over the land a mile away. The lingering sounds just flow, not wanting to give way to the silence. The wind begins to slow, clouds break apart to let in the remains of the day. The stark contrast of sunlight and gray clouds is breathtaking. Another rumble of thunder and the storm is all but over. I can see the calling lights of the pier, warning of the concrete coast that threatens to destroy unwary boats. Pulling as close to the channel as the wind permits, I quickly lower the main sail and start the aged motor. The rude sound make me shudder, realizing not for the first time that I would rather be in the storm surrounded by thunder, then in the silence broken only by a two-stroke sputtering engine.

He Said, She Said

The man walks through the door. The woman looks away, the hurt evident in her eyes. The phone calls stopped, the attention faded away. The man moves to his group of friends - a safe spot in his world of self-consciousness. She glances constantly while chatting with her friends. They catch each other more often than comfortable. He laughs louder than usual, wanting to show no weakness. She smiles and nods, knowing no greater fear than showing how hurt she is. He grows quiet, looking to be rid of the situation, looking back at the times and only seeing how he screwed up. She ties her hands in knots under the table, looking back at how she scared him away, knowing how she just wanted to open up in a way she never had with someone before. He makes a comment about a passing female, trying to draw his attention away from the woman who occupies his mind space. He could handle the situation, could handle the affection, just not the giving, not feeling comfortable opening up and reciprocating the emotions falling from her heart to his ears. She knows he had to let go of something, waiting patiently for the release. Wanting to be the one, wanting to feel the need he had for her, to be so close emotionally that only God could know his heart more.
He looks at her, thinking the damage done is unrepairable, the bridge burned completely. She was so close. The emotions and things of his heart, the closely guarded castle could not be brought down so easily. The walls where so high. He almost let down his guard once. She had lowered the rope from her heart and he had started to climb, then realizing the height decided to turn back and leave that path untraveled. After that point they had never really connected with each other, never again communicating with their hearts. She was slower to see the trend in their relationship until, of course, he was gone. This place being the only place they might see each other. In the back of her mind, so hoping, knowing that he would walk back through that door, but not knowing how or why she would feel the way she did. He knew she would be here eventually after the “time period”. She would just appear back in his life and all the emotions would flow again. Things he didn’t want to talk about or feel or even think about came flooding back. She wanted to run, either way, out the door or try to enter his arms again. He wanted to feel her touch, the warmth of her breath. She needed the security of his being. He needed her to be there to touch. She wanted his taste in her mouth. He wanted to smell her again. The temptations bombarded both. He needed her, she needed him. But both looked away, drawn back into their folds of security and doubt. Both turned away.