SPORT Thirty knots of wind. Double reef in the main. Engine’s quit. Waves breaking over the bow. The The mule jib pulling us over the swells. Where’s the line between pleasure and pain? Chaos reigns. My wife is upset. The sandwiches have fallen into the bilge. One kid is puking. The other screaming. It was supposed to be a pleasure sail. Whose insane idea was this? Suddenly I wake up, rub my eyes, get out of bed. The sheets are soaked with sweat. In the shower I step on a bath toy. It’s my son’s plastic sailboat lying on its side.
5 Comments
Sue Clayton
23/2/2021 02:20:12 am
Sails set for choppy waters.
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Mary Wallace
23/2/2021 04:56:09 am
I think a picnic might be safer.
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Swapan k Banerjee
23/2/2021 08:52:16 am
Your style of writing is often dreamy, but always rooted in reality. Not to forget, in this case, your sound marine diction. You're a very fine writer, Jim.
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Jim Woessner
24/2/2021 09:48:24 pm
Nice of you, Swapan. Thanks. It's true in terms of reality. Don't they always say, write what you know? Living on SF Bay, I've done a lot of sailing and have had my share of mishaps, including a sinking. What is life but a knife's edge between chaos and catastrophe?.
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Candace Arthuria Williams
25/2/2021 02:17:12 pm
Harrowing, Jim. Glad it was only a dream. Get right back on that boat.
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