A man with not much to lose,
searching purpose, island hopping in his sailboat to
somewhere,
ran into a storm and safely docked at a small Caribbean island
about 2 miles in length populated by about
a thousand islanders - mostly fishermen. It had clean streets,
tidy New England style clapboard houses, cozy pubs and a
blue-green lagoon with fishing boats sleepily nodding in the
water. He docked the sailboat and wandered into the
pub close by, ordered beer and grilled fish and watched the
rain falling through the porthole window
The grilled fish was fresh and light and the beer cold
The fishermen in the pub seemed unhurried, with quiet eyes
They bantered with the bartender in a cool pleasant way that
seemed familiar to the man - it echoed a
simpler time and place. The waitress was ethereal and attractive
with a clean laugh - and talking with her stirred feelings of
nostalgia within him.
He finished the meal and drank another beer while
listening to the rain pattering on the tin roof - cocooned by
blue seas and thought:
I should stay here and not go back home. A man could reinvent himself
in a place like this. I will make some inquiries
But the storm passed and the fishermen got
back on their boats.
And as if by nature: The man returned to his sailboat,
undid the lines and sailed away slowly, listening to
gentle waves washing against the boat.
As the island became smaller behind him
he did not look back.
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