A Meeting

September 24, 2010

My boat, my little boat, is as big as a washing basket and made of wood. No sail, no rudder, no oars. One hand holding onto each side, this is how I sit. Bobbing, bobbing, sometimes a wave slaps me but I’m not scared. It’s not a scary thing. In my minds eye I imagine what I look like. A thimble in a swimming pool.

My home is down over there. I can’t see it but I can feel it. I can always feel it, even when my thimble takes me across the world. Off in the distance I can see a different island. Tiny and green, green from the seeds and the straw in the mattresses on the ships that were broken on the rocks. And tiny because it’s tiny.

My mind is loose and my spirit calm when the ocean on one side of my boat starts to groan. Inhaling, sucking, splitting, my boat keens as I grip on. Stretching, bubbling, the water begins arcing upwards. I’m wet from the rain that’s suddenly appeared but when I lick my lips I find that the rain is salty. And then – an eye. Watching and waiting.

No warning, it feels like a storm hits my boat, giant waves come from nowhere and I almost tip over and I can’t feel the sun on my face, I look up and there are no clouds, no clouds at all, but what there is is a body, a big giant body, leapsailing over the top of me and raining down salty rain, a little piece of seaweed falls on my arm and then on the other side of my boat a sound like God has clapped his hands. And the rain pours down.

The pitching of my boat slows and I turn to look.

– Hi
– Hi there, I reply.
– Was that good?
– Ya it was pretty good.

He turns to look at the island in the distance then turns back to me.

– You see that island?
– Ya, I can see it.
– I’m gonna jump it.
– The island?
– Yeah, I’m gonna jump it.

I don’t know what else to say. We bob and watch each other. I shrug.

– Huh.
– Yeah. So I’ll see you later.
– Ya. See you.

The barnacles on his tail glimmer as I watch him disappear over the horizon.
And I sit in my boat, my little boat.

Bobbing bobbing bobbing.

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