My Life is Like a Three Masted Schooner
In response to a homework suggestion, this is what creative writing student, John DeTraz compared his life to…a three-masted schooner.
Clearing port to explore the main, my holds are full, a figurehead of a young boy is mounted on the prowl, one hand pointing onward, searching the horizon for adventure.
For days on end the breeze is fresh and strong, my bow parts the water effortlessly, all the while listening to the whistling of the spirits in my rigging, knowing everything is right with the world. Dolphins are playing and eyeing me as if to inquire “why are you here” flying fish join in the chase seemingly wanting to escape their briny sea if only for a moment, all while inquiring of my intrusion into their realm. Clouds fly effortlessly across the endless blue skies, the majestic orange orb reigns supreme over my seemly endless future. I spend my days tacking port and starboard, observing others as they carry forward on their endless tacks.
Dark clouds appear on the horizon, strong winds and a rising sea await, I trim my sails, secure my hatches, and strengthen my rudder. All the while keeping my bow plowing into the foaming sea against the rising storm, always threatening disaster from unknown reefs and swirling currents.
It’s as if a great bird has seized my rigging and began shaking it from side to side threatening to upend my masts, blinding light illuminates the crashing waves as they wash over my bow, keeping time with the roaring thunder and driving me into the deep abyss over and over without pity or remorse, I struggle with exhaustion fearing I will surrender, finally the storm eases and passes, peace returns in place of struggle.
Calm days arrive without any wind, the unsparing sun relentlessly beats down, there’s no escape, except for the cool waters gently rocking me, not knowing what tomorrow will bring. Time compels the great orange orb to slowly sink, extinguishing the relentless heat, and opening the window for the night angels to slowly arrive with their twinkling dance.
A quiet wind begins to rise in the deep noiseless night, awakening my rigging with the low moans of unexpected stress and the soft sound of waters brushing against my bow.
Another day begins, I look to the horizon for the future, I turn to gaze at my disappearing wake with twenty-six buoys dancing in the unpredictable sea.
John DeTraz is a member of SourcePoint’s creative writing group. Creative writing typically meets on the last Monday of each month at 2 p.m.