One Last Row

The treasure of my life answered my call.

“Would you come pick me up? I hit a big metal buoy and sunk my boat.”

My partner on this adventure called marriage we launched 41 years ago retrieved me from the side of the road and the day after Christmas that year she helped me re-launch the totally restored craft.

“One last row!” I smiled at her and then looked from her out across the lake, drawn irresistibly to the absolute stillness of the water and the fast-fading light of a brilliant sunset, the dark clouds below probably not going to yield their brooding color to the rays of the sun which, far, far above layered the sky with streaks of gold.

Having affixed the red-blinking lights to the bow I pushed away from the dock knowing I’d soon be chasing the moon.

She knew I belonged out there, that I was so happy out there, and that love for me was so evident in her smile as I rowed away.

She was there when I left, and she was there to watch for the tell-tale signs of the twinkling lights on the bow of my boat to return.

My thoughts tonight as I sat at the end of the dock where she used to sit waiting for me.