I sail on a boat that is very, precious to me. It is a boat that I built myself. Often I did not bring much presence our thought to the building; Often I just trusted that it would float despite my disinterest. But it is my boat and I have come to love it without judgment or precondition.
As I look at the churning sea I contemplate drowning. It does not scare me as it once did. I stare into the green depths, there is no longer anything there that can hurt me. But my boat, the vessel that so faithfully carried me across so many dangers, is battered by the rising sea. Is it fair that I must be asked to watch this thing that I love, that I built around me for protection, slowly fall apart despite me. Take me, I am ready for the sea, but leave my boat to sail to the end. To watch something I have loved so well destroyed for my folly is too much to bear.