Deborah Mills

Winds over waves

The waves crashed against the rocks on the small bay where Jenna walked. Fog rolled in off the high tide of the sea, giving the horizon ghostly images rather than crisp sun- drenched glass of the sea. Jenna walked on the rocks every day, on the path created for many years by the worn feet of others looking to the waters for comfort, for solace or for peace. Jenna, herself, hoped to get a glimpse of her grandfather, Elijah, who loved the sea, captained a small fishing boat for many years, and went to rest in the depths of the sea during a major tempest three years before this last horrible year. The miscarriage, then her husband having an affair with his co – worker, then Jack saying that he didn’t love her anymore and wanted a divorce had put a huge hole in her spirit. Her heart felt ripped in two pieces. She was hoping to “feel” her grandfather’s energy as he had been her hero. Her grandfather was a tall, big man with a huge heart. Most often, he caught the fish but ended up giving half away to the poor who lived along the docks and the fish markets. Gramps had a hug for everyone, big and little, male or female with his warm blue eyes dancing in the sun, and his bright smile on his face. Tears ran down Jenna’s face as she stopped to look out to sea, peering out into the waves over to the horizon where the colored prism lights from the sun peering out through the fog, danced across the waters. Jenna looked out longingly through the fog, through the sunlight waves, wishing as she did as a child, to be waiting for Gramps to come in with the boat, wrap her in his arms, to say, “Gramps is here, not a worry in the world, my love. “ As she peered out over the horizon, her heart beating with pain and anguish, but there was no boat to be seen. Jenna knew from her knowledge of years of living near the sea, that the fishing boats tried not to go out when the fog was so dense. Still she stood on the rocky ridges watching the waves, come in, go out, misting her with small bits of water. She turned to go back to her cottage that was nearby on the path back up the rocks and sand. A bit of seaweed tangled around her foot, as if the gods of Neptune were saying to wait just a bit longer. “ don’t leave yet.” As she sat on the slippery rock, to untangle the long green seaweed from her sandal, she looked up to see 2 dolphins not far from shore. The dolphins were at play, singing their mating song. She smiled, then she saw the fishing boat. Far out, at the point where the sky meets the sea, the horizon, her soul leaped with joy as the small fishing boat appeared in her sights. In the midst of the fog, the boat looked as a ghost boat, floating silently on the high waves, tossing the boat around as a toy in the winds. She could make out the small trawler, see the sails, the net dragging in the waters behind, full of fish, but the images on the decks seemed vague, dim, as if the spirits sailed the boat. As suddenly as the vision appeared, the boat sailed into the sun, into the fog and disappeared. Jenna was disappointed. Getting her foot free, she went to have tea and scones by her fireplace in her small cottage where Gramps have spent his life. Gramps had left her the cottage in his will, because he knew she loved the little house and found comfort in its coziness, and her memories. Seashells and aloe vera plants filled her window sills. She drank her tea, standing at the big window by the fireplace, still looking out to the sea, hoping for another glimpse of the boat she had seen. Of course, the men had gone in for the night. She settled by the fire, wrapping herself in the warm flannel shirt her gramps had worn many times. As she fell asleep, she thought of who might own the boat. As she slept, her dreams were filled of Gramps on the ghost boat, sailing again the waters of the ocean he loved.