Tales from the Water
Tales from the Water: A Slightly Haunted Voyage (of My Nerves)
Do you remember me mentioning that my husband was off on a journey? Well, yesterday I spiraled into a fog of unease. The kind of stillness that settles into your bones when something just doesn’t feel right. He and I usually speak several times a day, like clockwork, but yesterday... silence.
Radio silence.
His voyage was meant to be a simple one — a week-long passage by water from Florida to Mississippi, ferrying a freshly acquired boat to its new owner. An exciting trip, or so we thought. But as the tides often do, plans shifted.
Several miles offshore, the boat decided it had other intentions. Something critical gave out. (He tried explaining it, but the mechanics of it felt like black magic to me — gears, pressure, coolant — all gibberish.) What mattered was that he had to be towed back to land, and for a moment, the worst possible thoughts crept in like mist under a doorframe.
After a long day of frustration, re-routing, and salty language (on both our parts), the client finally agreed to dry dock the boat in Mississippi for repairs — sparing us the prolonged agony of waiting for work to be done in Florida. And so… with only one functioning engine, my husband is now limping the boat northward. Slower than planned. But moving forward nonetheless.
The journey may take longer, but there’s something poetic about it: the persistence of motion, even when you're not at full strength. The determination to finish what was started, even if it takes a little more time.
A lesson wrapped in rust and saltwater, wouldn’t you say?
💀🕯 Here’s to slow-moving ghosts on the Gulf and the loved ones we wait for in the fog.
— Your Gothic Chronicler