The following post originally appeared in 2006, on the 13th anniversary of my father’s death. Today is his birthday. He would have been 80 years old. I thought it fitting to bring this post back to the top in honor of him. Happy Birthday Dad.
It is 6:30 in the morning. The wind is hard in my face and my body is shivering. Tears run from both eyes as I sit blinking in the bow of our speeding boat. No one is speaking, for we are in route.
Not ten minutes prior I was sleeping comfortably in bed. Then, in a blur, I was awakened, dressed, and now somehow find myself here, careening across the cool morning water of the lake. The sleeping world surrounds me. I yearn for the comfort and warmth of my bed, a bed that is likely still warm without me. Through my tear-soaked eyes, the only sign of life I see is the occasional duck scurrying to evade our determined craft. But we have no time to stop for ducks right now, for we are in route.