All week I had been looking forward to the weekend ahead of me. Actually, I look forward to every weekend ahead of me, but I knew this weekend was going to provide me with feelings I have needed for a long time now. I was headed for redemption with a loving friend and a bucket of live shrimp.
When the whistle blew, I was out of my work clothes and out the door. I rolled down all the windows, turned up my newly uploaded iPod and flew past every spring breaker on I65 S. I could feel the water and taste the crab boil. I stopped in Fairhope to surprise some good friends and steal their bed. We spent the night sitting around an old boat the boys are restoring, opening beer bottles with a sawzall and telling old stories.
I rose with the roosters and headed to the water, just needing time alone with the boat to rekindle the feelings filling my soul. Not too long ago we moved as one through the waters of Soldier Creek. Exploring. Fishing. Talking. It was as though the boat was an extension of me and me of it. I could not wait to see my old friend and renew the feelings I have desperately needed each and every day for the past five months, but I got the feeling, my loyal friend had other intentions for when I arrived.
I pulled up to the house and ran out to the boat with no hesitation. I untied my trusty steed and headed up the creek beds. The wind was trying to blow me into every grass bed and sand bar, but this was our time, this was our moment to remember the past. I wanted to feel the hands of the sun on my face and on my hair, so I let down the canopy top of the boat. I must have been so caught up in the moment, that I completely forgot how to release the canopy, because it went hurdling towards the water and not to its appropriate place of rest.
Finally I got the canopy rested on the boat but needed to raise it back up so I could continue on the ride. I was quickly reminded that I am much shorter than I ever remember I am and was unable to replace the canopy on my own. I rush into a fit of panic and frustration. I begin with the usual, “I am too short to do anything!” complaint and quickly moved on to the, “Why am I always alone?” crisis. I was able to completely detach the canopy from the boat, maneuver it into the well of the boat and head towards home. All I wanted to do was get home and handle the canopy situation, but I believe my faithful steed was not quite finished making me pay for being away so long.
The life jacket flew out of the boat. Why is it that something always flies out of the boat when you are hurry? So, I turned around to get it, but only to find myself face to face with a speeding boat of college spring breakers! I was able to dodge the racing fraternity, but not with any help from them. I went to grab the pole hook my father keeps in the boat for situations like these, but he had failed to mention the unnecessary rope tied to the hook, keeping it attached to the boat. Why me? I was able to retrieve the life jacket back into the boat while giving it a stern talking to about staying put and drove home.
As I tied up the boat and landed both feet firmly on the pier, I felt confused. Why had my loyal friend treated me this way? It was as if we had never met, nor spent countless hours connecting and answering each other’s needs. I needed some time to think, to try and take all of these new feelings in. After Dad and I worked on the canopy placing it in perfect position, I tried again.
I woke up at 7:30 am and untied my neglected friend with sorrow and apology. We trolled off in the early morning sun to the warm spots we like to visit first. As the wind tried to control our destinations, she stood strong and plunged through. We fished and whispered in the morning silence until it was time to return home for a hearty breakfast. No fish were caught, but a friendship was saved and my trusty steed was returned to me as I once new her.
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