Lost in a Fog…
Out in my boat, on a day of beauty, sun shining, waves calm, little wind and the blues and weakies are running. Fishing rods set to pick up the slightest hit, kicker motor pushing me at other than breakneck speed. No hits on the rods have I had in an hour, all other boats around me have turned and headed in, why? Must have fallen asleep on the deck, for I did awake in a fog bank, both external and internal…
The boat did run fine, the two Detroits did start right up but where to go, my GPS not working, my compass spinning like toy top. Cannot see beyond the bow, lights just reflect back, nothing can I see, nor can anyone I hear. What happened to the beautiful day, just an hour ago, the sun did shine and no inclement weather was predicted…?
Did I happen into the twilight zone or did the Bermuda Triangle swallow me whole? Either way I cannot do anything but stay in one place, too move would be to risk hitting another boater or worse. So on goes my foghorn, a melancholy sound in an otherwise sad and morose world, keeping at bay, others caught in this bank of fog.
Dropped anchor and only hit the bottom at two fathoms, now how can that be, as I was a good two hundred miles off the beach? I hear surf, waves breaking on a rocky shore, but that’s not possible, I am nowhere near a beach. Even with the drag anchor, I move along at a considerable pace, heading towards the sound of the shore, with fear and consternation showing on my face. What will I see when the fog does dissipate, will I be on a hostile shore, or will I be home having not as far as I had thought, roamed?
The fog does begin to break, I can see patches of sunlight and the beach sounds closer. Then I hear voices, calling to me, saying come to us, Ed, come to us to let us see you. I break through the fog, it is now behind, thick and impenetrable it looks, but on the beach people do beckon. I can see with my binoculars, my mother and father waving from the beach, my grandparents, my family, those I did leave behind many years past. Am I dreaming, am I have a hallucination; are they really there or am on drugs?
I know that I am NOT dead, I just want to live, so turn the boat around I do and head back out into the fog to try to live another day.
Sorry dad and mom, grandparents too, I don’t wish to join you on that beach this day, although the island did look to be so beautiful and restful a place, it is not where I wish to be just yet.
Clearing the fog bank on the opposite side; seemed I got through it in just over a second. I guess the trip to the living side takes shorter time, but going to the dead side, you need more time to reflect and make up your mind…
Did it happen? I look all about and no fog does appear, only other boats and fishermen off my bow so near. So, where do I go from here? My rigs are all still set to fish and catch some dinner for the night, so I just forget the “dream” and allow it to become a memory.
Someday, mom and dad, I will then return, but for now my life does call me, I am not ready to die…
© ~ ed 2/2/05
