Dad and Me at The Small Boat Habor
Amos Outling Sr. October 3rd 1929- May 25 2013
His Smile Reassures Me
I feel the callouses of my father's big hand, as he holds mine, while we walk on the break-wall at the small boat habor. Lying my head back on my shoulders, I shield my eyes from the sun, to see his face. The water's edge envelopes me helping me to hear the softest wave slap, soothing my childish soul. The afternoon sunrays bounces off my body in a dance, that change into a game of catch between my little fingers. Sliding my hand out of his, I hear serenades of laughter from the seagulls welcoming our visit. I glance at my father and his smile reassures me, he hears this serenade of nature's music, too, as it accompanies my play in the gravel, swooshing my foot from side to side, my sneaker forms an arc of playful imprints at the water's edge.
We Glance At Each Other
Taking off my sneakers to clear out the gravel, I play some more. Then worn-out and on all fours, I raise my head slowly, elegantly as a swan my gaze follow the outline of the break-wall as far I see, until the break-wall meets the sky.
We arrive at a spot with two stone chairs. We glance at each other, could it be nature has provided a place for you and me? I wonder? The air chills and dad drapes his sweater over my shoulders; he sets up the fishing equipment and pulls out a can, Peering in I encounter another world-worms. What an awlful smell, do they know they're in a can? Do they know whats about to happen?
The Smoke Carries The Whispers
Daydreaming Dad gently tugs for my attention, pulling the can away, challenging me he hands me a hook and a worm, then laughs. Walking slightly bent over, and sick to my stomach, I make my way back to the stone chair. Watching Dad put this small creature on the hook was always the hardest part of our fishing trips.
Spellbound, I immediately puzzle together, the scene of the seagulls, swooping down to the water to receive their dinner.
The sunset paints the sky beautiful hues of red and orange and finally deep purple; the magic of the scene brings goose pimples down my back my heart pounds in amazement.
Its dark now, snuggling in my huge sweater for warmth, campfires burn with embers sending sparks of fire that pops against the darkness of the night, the smoke carries the whispers of those who sit around it. I see fish nipping just under the surface of the waters and a hint from Dad's glance that says we'll stay a little longer.
Thank-you for all the memories, Daddy, until we meet again... John 5: 28-29