Tuesday, March 03, 2015

Come home

This is  contribution to Two Shoes Tuesday this week in which I have chosen to use the other prompt Ocean



Each afternoon she walks down to the harbour, huddles in the corner of a wooden shelter and looks out at the ocean as the fishing boats come home laden with their glistening twitching cargo.

As one by one they cruise towards the quay, the throbbing of their engines is drowned by shrill shrieking from a billowing cloud of ravenous gulls. 

She counts them in, whilst praying that one more boat will return than left that morning.

The fishing folk no longer notice her, but she is always there. Always watching and waiting; always praying that today will be the day he'll return.

Every evening after the catch has been landed, the boats moored for the night and the seagulls have finished scavenging for leftovers, she walks to the harbour's edge and lays her hand on the same rusting bollard she’s touched for thirty two long years.

 She looks down at the empty space in the row of bobbing boats, a space that once was his mooring; a space she keeps for him when he returns. 

He will return, of that she is certain, if not today, tomorrow. He will return, of that she’s sure.






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5 comments:

  1. Poignant piece today from you Keith. How that must happened so many times before communications and safety were thought important.

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  2. Where there is love, there is always hope. This was beautifully written, Keith, sad in the amount of time that has passed, but beautiful in her dedication and determination to wait for his return.

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  3. how hope keeps surviving, even when we know that it is hopeless to hope?

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