Hank is such an "old salt" ( someone who has sailed for many years). He works long hard days catching then selling fish. He is up at the crack of dawn. Hank goes out on the bay along with other groups of fishermen. We have a very simple life as he does not make much money. I love sharing his life; I work on his nets with him. When he is out, I spend time with the wives of other fishermen. We support each other through happy celebrations of great hauls to tragic times when life is lost because stormy weather shakes someone right from the boat. My love is a quiet man, following in the footsteps of his father. Tonight I will tell him he will have a little one to teach his trade. 718Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAaMvQS6AJz
Some of the others have returned early. The sky is darkening; the river is restless. They are repairing their nets and preparing their catch for market. As I tie knots in the net I am making, my eyes scan the river for any sign of his boat. A group of men have gathered and seem to be in serious discussion. I wonder what is happening; maybe I should join them.
As I walk along the sandy shoreline, a few of my friends start coming towards me. They enclose me in a circle. One of the skippers, firmly packs his pipe and draws in a deep breath. As he slowly exhales, a ribbon of smoke forms a wobbly ring. He begins to tell me what he has witnessed out on the water today. A strong wind stirring up the river picked up Hanks boat and carried it down the river. No one has seen him since.
I am not sure what I am supposed to do. I can not think. I must go and get ready for Hank's return. I must get away from here. I wander away. I have walked to the local grocers. I feel slightly sick; from my baby ? or from the uncertainty of not knowing where my husband is? I need something salty. One by one I lay a chip on my tongue and my nausea subsides as the sea salt dissolves. I proceed down the pathway to our home feeling so close to my love with the taste of sea salt on my lips.
A larger boat is pulling Hank's boat up river. The whole community is helping to bring it in to shore. The hold is brimming with the day's catch; enough to share. The nets are overflowing. The wind stirred up the water sending fish flying right into Hank's boat. There he is. My fisherman. My heart swells. Forever will I remember the day it rained fish each time a eat a potato chip covered in sea salt.718Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkf7I8rgrz5
