10
(file name/ designation 09.10.24.odt ch10 in computer)
The row to shore couldn't have been more dreamy creamy. Warming Sun. A few clouds melting above the surrounding Sauailito hills. Familiar Mount Tamalpais still dominating the northwest skyline, as it always had throughout my life. Seagulls soaring. Diving ducks' startled dive as they surface too near the rowboat. More and more blue sky. Surreal reflections and refractions off and of the calm surfaces glassy film. For probably the umpteenth time, I wondered how the water could be so green, yet lighted by such a blue sky. Skiffy plowed the smooth swish sliding through the green soup. A part of me was soaking this up in a poet's reverie, for all too soon, the shore, with its messy mass of confusions, would be arriving. Alas: to shore all sailors must at some point . . .
I was walking up the docks when a wailing Star burst out of her boathouse, almost knocking me off the dock, and began franticly tugging my arm in a panic; as near tears as I had ever seen her.
“I'm leaving for 'BC', NOW! and Stan won't be back for ten more days and you've got to keep our boats pumped out for us!” Her earnest plea was not to be denied. I promised to keep everything floating, monitor the phone, and relay any news. Poor kid said her aunt Sis's boat was reported overdue and maybe lost at sea. I gave her all my money and hugged her good luck. And just like that, she was gone. Off to the northern sea in hopeful search for her missing Sis; hitching rides through the fleet and a couple ferryboat rides, zeroing in on the family heart, homing beacon ablaze.
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