ONE LAST CONQUER FOR THE SEASON

She is out there. She is always out there. Halfway Rock. Halfway to where you may ask? I'm not quite sure. Perhaps between Boston and Gloucester. I never took the measurements. She was my first great row. Was that five years ago, perhaps six? I had finally ventured out beyond Marblehead Rock, beyond Childrens. It was where my Echo Islander became "Wilson" as I fearlessly rowed the Southwest swells and chop back to the safety of the bay. (don't kid yourself, I was scared shitless at the time.) A lifetime ago. This morning she greeted me with open arms and still waters. When I set out around 6:30, I hadn't planned to make the visit. Figured a 3-4 mile pull would be long enough. I hadn't rowed since Sunapee and didn't feel I had the juice for something larger, but she knew otherwise. Like a Siren oout of Greek Mythology, I sensed a whisper as I crossed Marblehead Rock heading towards the bell. It grew stronger as I approached Childrens. A peek over my shoulder keep revealing her silhouette against the steel gray of the ocean palette. She was there for one last conquer of the season. Turning East I started making my way towards our rendezvous. Long rhythmic pulls of the oars combined with the sounds of her calling put me in a meditative trance that brought me to her side in less time than I would have otherwise imagined. We embraced for a short period of time, enjoying each others intimate presence and than I had to depart for the return trip home. Around 2 hours later I returned to the dock with sore hands and a sadness in my heart for she will be missed until next season.
Blessings