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There were other times for this boat, tight and proud, battling storms, wind and rain, or simply enjoying a spring day tied up to the wharf.
There had been days when the bow broke the white foam of the waves, carring the day's catch, never looking back, no weather was rough enough to scare them, the strength of youth and the driving force that moved them, finding new fishing grounds and new turns in the liquid road.
Somehow I knew they would fight, the old battered wood still had soul in it, there is always a new shore, a new venture, and a new way to get to the same old places.
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