Large dry-docked motor craft rest, snuggly covered with sharp cornered blue plastic shrink-wrap just above the exposed white hulls at the marina’s deserted entrance. Beyond the empty weathered slips, sleek sailboats are peacefully cradled with normal gray mooring covers, as their tall silver masts remain upright. Leaning against the heavy blue railing of Grand Haven’s boardwalk, there is comfort in the undulated flow of the dark channel between south and north piers. I sense my face and ears turning red with the light cold wind, promising the potential frigid power of the season. Series after series of small waves rolling easily against the slippery rocks at the base of the concrete north pier offer a calming whoosh and roar, inviting me to linger. It is a morning for would be seafarers to ponder the joys of past and present love, gratitude for surviving youthful foolishness, and contemplating a combination of excitement and serenity of aging as an adventure. Peace.
Posted on: Sat, 13 Dec 2014 15:54:43 +0000
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