A short walk out onto the dock
Dear Izzy, Max, and Kate,
I sat in our dark living room, early in the morning. Before the sun.
The TV news on, muted.
I laced up the hiking boots I got for Christmas and then sat back on the couch for a moment.
The rhythm of freezing rain outside. Tic tic tic tic.
My boots would keep my feet dry.
From the window I stared into our back yard at the puddles forming beneath your swing set.
Then a warm vision of Seabrook Island, SC.
Maybe it was the puddles that used to form on the golf course behind our villa there.
Alone in our living room while you slept upstairs.
It’s been almost 15 years since I worked on boats.
Sat on North Beach late in the afternoon.
I often think of those days on the fuel dock.
The nights Mommy and I spent wandering the dark corners of the island beneath spanish moss and palmettos.
As I stared into our backyard I felt the afternoon breeze blowing across the island. I remembered how big the possibilities felt then. And how small the island felt.
I don’t know if I miss the island itself. At least not in the way it might seem.
It’s the adventure I miss most.
Stepping out onto the docks that lead into the tidal creeks.
Where I used to watch dolphins play in shallow water. Where an off course manatee swam by. Where hammerhead and black tips swam too close.
Tic tic Adventures yet taken in my life tic tic.
A short walk out onto the dock.
I love you,
Sat: rode 2 hours
Sun: ran 80 minutes easy
Tues: ran 35 minutes easy / swim