Moorings

With the arrival of each group of visitors to our home, I see the same.  Greeting our guests, I note the haggard expressions and weary eyes.  Their sails, threadbare and tattered at the edges, their hulls battered from the crags and shoals of life.  Their bodies bear the taut tension of  struggle against tides and weathered storms.   I note too, the relief as it washes over them, like Mariners too long at sea, berthing within our harbor.

Such is life in a hectic and demanding world but here, all cares are cast upon the waves and spirits are refreshed.  At my harbor home, the weary laden traveler, shed their restraints for flip flops, shorts and bare shoulders.

Unburdened of the cares of daily life, find nourishment  in hot meals, cold wine and coconut rum.

Their days are spent basking in the warm sun,  splashing in cool waters, boat rides, fishing, floating and a fare bit of shenanigans, filling our cove with laughter and unfettered joy.

Afternoons find dreamers napping beneath the shade of canopied trees.

Our evenings are spent on the deck overlooking the lake,  in quiet wonder of unfolding watercolored sunsets over quiet conversation.

At night, we fish, watch movies, play cards or venture down for late night swims.

The end of day, content with their day with souls renewed our guests slip between the lavender scented sheets, sailing off to sleep.

Departure, amid farewells and blown kisses, our guests, mended from the fray, feel strengthened to face whatever the sea of life may bring.  Silence and solitude envelope our tiny harbor and with yearning hearts, we scan the horizon til longing steers them to port again.