Boating life isn’t easy, neither is growing up

Written By: Alannah Link

All around me is blue.

Today the sky is clear of clouds – above and below are varying shades of cobalt, indigo, and cerulean. On the bad days, it’s grey, which turns the water a threatening shade of black, like ink. I like the days where all around me is blue. Blue is good. Grey is treacherous. That is all I’ve ever known.

Mama is at the helm, steering wheel in hand. She is sailing against the wind, making her long, dark hair whip around violently. Her eyes are on the horizon, and a furrow has formed between her brows that tells me she needs to focus. I cannot distract her when that furrow is there.

I’m sitting in my favourite spot, at the bow. There’s a small spot right at the point that I can sit and pretend I’m flying. Kitty comes and stands proudly at the bow with me sometimes. We let him think he’s the captain of this ship.

I used to never pay attention to where we were going. We would set sail then dock in a new place or a new country. I’ve been listening in on the conversations between Mama and Papa now. I recognize some places; some docks look more familiar than others. The radio talks and sometimes the languages change, and I know we’ve made it to another country. I never know what they’re saying.

Right now, we’re heading North. And next week it will be East, and next month it will be West. They have always held the compass, and I await the day they let me decide the direction we’re going next.

Alannah is a writer whose vivid self-awareness often veers into self-consciousness. She can be found either watching the latest A24 flick, spending too much money at the local bookstore, or curating a thematic Spotify playlist.

Blog: thecrookedfriend.com