Son of a Sailor

The cliffs gave me the perfect view of the open ocean before me. It was also the place I felt truely at peace. My younger brother was terrified of heights, so he avoided the cliffs at the edge of their property. This was perfect because I knew if my brother wasn’t here then my mother would not be either. If my mother wasn’t here then we could not argue, and it seemed that is all they had been doing lately. My father was off somewhere on the sea I was staring at.

He was the captain of his ship and was only two weeks into his month-long journey. I was counting the days until he returned. In the meantime, I needed to find a way to not kill my mother. That was the true reason I came to the cliffs' edge with a blanket, cheese, and water. I would be set out here for a while, so I decided to sit down and enjoy it.

The wind blew the smells of the sea towards me, and I could not help but think about if the smell was the reason my father loved captaining his ship. Smelling the ocean everyday while feeling the wind on his face. I closed my eyes and tried to picture life on the ship, at my father’s side. The sounds of others adjusting the sails and tying off ropes. The waves slapped against the side of the ship. Everyone on deck had a job to do and they moved around the deck without hesitation with one goal in mind, get to their destination then turn around and come home.

I wanted to be a part of that. I wanted to work with my father and his crew. I wanted to wake up every morning seeing and smelling the sea knowing I could traverse it, no matter what it wanted to send my way. I knew that life would also be full of people yelling, but they would not be yelling in frustration or anger. They would be yelling to be louder than the sounds of the wind and the waves. They would be yelling to communicate to ensure a successful journey.

I could hear the crew yelling my name, needing me to do my part of the task. Then I realized the voice was far too high pitched to be a member of my father’s crew. I was not on my father’s ship, I was still on the cliffside and the person yelling my name was my younger brother. I took a deep breath, a bite of cheese and a sip of water. Then I put rocks on the blanket because I was determined to come back to the cliff’s edge before the day was over.

Reluctantly, I stood and started walking towards my brother. Whatever he needed, I was sure that it was not as urgent as he was making it seem, especially since my mother seemed to be ignoring him. When I got close enough for him to hear me, without yelling, I asked, “What is so important?”

“He wants to go out and check on the pumpkins. He is worried that it has been to warm for them to grow.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes it does!” He argued. “How are they supposed to know it is fall if it is so warm that it feels like summer still. I want to make sure we have plenty of pumpkins before Halloween.”

My mother chimed in, “Please just walk with him over to the pumpkin field so he knows that everything with the pumpkins is fine.” I sighed and held my hand out towards my brother. “You know you do not have to sigh, just because I ask you to do something.”

I shook my head. I did not want to fight with my mother about a sigh. I took my brother’s hand, and we headed towards the pumpkin patch we had planted in the spring. Before we got there, my brother asked, “How many pumpkins do you think we will have?”

“I don’t know,” I answered and I could tell he was disappointed with the answer. So, I added, “How about this, when we get there, we count how many pumpkins we have that way we can know for next time.”

“And we can see how many of them we think will be ready to carve when dad gets back. Mom says she is not sure if he will be here for Halloween, so we need to make sure we carve the pumpkins while he is here.”

“Okay, we can do that. I am sure at least a few of the pumpkins will be ready to carve in a few weeks when he comes back.”

“Good,” he answered, before gasping. We had made it to the pumpkin patch and almost every vine had a pumpkin fruit on it. “There are so many!” I could see the entire pumpkin patch, so I let go of my brother’s hand, and he immediately started counting. I just stood at the end of the path and watched him count.

I thought my mother was crazy for planting this patch with pumpkins, but seeing how excited my brother was, I understood why she did it. He was more excited about these pumpkins then I could remember being about anything. Once he was at the far corner of the pumpkin patch he yelled, “We have 54 pumpkins, but they aren’t all orange.”

I motioned for him to come back over to me. He ran around the patch, being careful to stay far away from the vines and pumpkins at the edge. “We will be able to carve the orange one right?”

I smiled, “Yes, and by the time dad gets back they will be even bigger so we will have plenty of pumpkin to get the perfect carve.”

“You are going to carve pumpkins with us?” he asked.

I thought that was a weird question, because as long as he has been alive we have always carved pumpkins as a family. “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged, “You spend so much time out by the cliffs. I figured you did not like spending time with us anymore.”

I crouched down so that I was the same height as my brother. “Do you know why I spend so much time out by the cliffs?” I asked. He shook his head. “Because I know Dad is out on that water, and I cannot be out there with him. I can be as close to the water as possible, as close to him as possible.”

“Are you going to go back out there after we are back?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about it. Do you want to come with me?” He nodded. “Are you going to be scared of how high the cliffs are?”

“Will you hold my hand?”

“Of course I will, and who knows, maybe it is actually not as scary as you remember it being.” I stood back up and took his hand again. Instead of stopping at the house, we walked past it. My mother called out to ask where we were going. “To the cliffs. Don’t worry, I’ll watch Micah,” I answered while still heading for the cliffs.

We stopped when we got to the blanket that I had weighed down with rocks. I sat down and my brother sat with me. “You’re right. It’s not scary anymore.”

I had not realized our mother followed us until I heard her say, “These cliffs are the reason your father wanted to buy the property. They are his favorite place.”

“It is a hard place not to love, especially knowing he is out there.” I looked back at my mother. “Are you going to sit with us?” I asked.

She smiled and took the open space next to Micah. We all sat in silence and looked out at the sea. I knew we were all thinking about the same person, about where he was and hoping that the seas would bring him back to us, so we could all sit on this blanket together.