Sailing

When John was a boy, he sailed a dingy shaped like a bathtub up and down the coastline along the channel. This was joy. This was freedom. This may have been a means of emulating the father who sailed away to his island. Sailed away to a freedom and joy not found on the mainline... 

Occasionally, Johnny's sister, Leif, joined him and found she could share her little brother's love for sailing. She could bask in the soaring atmosphere of wind, water, sky and bird.  A sense of belonging and oneness banished the alienating stuff of sibling rivalry. All things were good.

Recently, I was beset by a period of stress and strain, and calling John to  share the sense of unresolvable difficulties facing me, I received an invitation to join him and a few others for a short sail. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed, and conjured up various reasons why I couldn't. He tossed off one of these be saying he had a bucket with a seat. Five minutes after we hung up, Lumen was in his crate with a peanut butter Kong, and I was determined to accept a few moments of freedom from my little brother/benefactor. Maybe even a smidgeon of joy...
 
Extras of John with his friend and first mate, Linda, of our friend from childhood, Diane, of our sister, Mary, and me with my hands on the wheel of John's twenty-five foot boat.