Melissa Varnavas shares this wonderful poem about rowing out to an island for a picnic one summer day that suddenly becomes stormy.
The rowing poem
It started to rain. Wind sent the empty
sandwich bags sailing.
…
I do not remember
if they fluttered off like seagulls
…
or if a sudden gust filled the plastic, fat
like some tuna-loving cat
…
that neglected to look before it danced over
the side of the rocking canoe, touched the waves.
…
Disappeared. It started to
rain. The wind picked up. The tide changed.
…
Remember tying up at some mooring to eat lunch?
It had been such a nice day. Remember the worn out life
…
jackets we used as seat cushions? I turned to face
you, dangled my feet over the sides, tipped my toes into the rocking
…
water. We swayed with waves from passing boats, the smell
of suntan lotion, the day, and the wind, and the clouds, baby
…
oil, diesel, and rain, and the islands. I have danced in the rain
with you like a wet cat so many times, I have forgotten.
…
That day we took our positions again, stern and aft, perched
on white fiberglass. You always steered. I did not know how.
…
We put the boat in at Sandy Point. Picked up our paddles,
stashed the cooler, used the life jackets as seat cushions.
…
Was it me, the weak one, struggling against
the current, pining for any opportunity to give up?
…
I’m sure it was me. I have no courage for such things.
It thundered and rained, after the tide changed
…
and after the wind picked up, and we were nearly home.
I so wanted to stop. Stash the canoe on the beach and walk
…
back to the truck. or find a phone and call
for help. I have no courage but you pushed.
Said, come on. It was raining and I heard the thunder,
distant. There was the canoe and you and me, some unexpected
…
weather. A cooler with Coronas, Zimas, some Pepsis, tuna sandwiches. The tide
was with us on the way out. Misery Islands out there,
…
on our right. The shore on our left—Quincy, Dane, Lynch, West—
a short swim away. The sun was good and the sea smelled like the sea,
…
smelled like the wind and the rain and the sun and the beer
and the sandwiches. I think we tied to someone’s mooring. I think I
…
turned to face you, dangled my feet over the sides, tipped
my toes into the water, until the wind picked up and the tide
…
changed. We rowed and rowed and got
a fit of the giggles at the thought
…
of getting nowhere. It started to rain. Nothing
happened. That’s not to be expected. We are good
…
and strong and fine so many years from then, weathered,
smelling like sun and sweat and salt and sea, rowing.
…
Mid-laugh the tide took us back
to where we were. And maybe that’s the crux of it. It grew
…
dark. I remember. The tide
changed.
