In that moment on Penobscot Bay in our white boat

with my grand daughter tucked under my arm like a

nesting crane my chin on the top of her head,

a waft of rinsed baby shampoo, sweet candy, and

milky pudding blending into the salty air while we speed across the bay

to dinner under a tent eating things in shells like Royal Copenhagen china,

the china of mussels. The shell of fiberglass only two inches thick and

all that lay beneath us was the cold and solid ocean filled with fish just waiting to be eaten

or to watch others be eaten. The sky changing from blue to gray to powder hoping to surprise us.

We sit in the tent and I look at my family and remind my son in law the fog is coming in. He consults

his watch and informs me we have forty more minutes and my granddaughter asks for her ice

cream, her eyes as brown as brown could ever be and her heart beating like a trusting heart.

I try not to look at the horizon, try not to remember the Captain Bly I knew as a child, the warnings,

the fear, the rage, the storms and I catch a glimpse of the cut of his mouth jagged with rage.

I want ice cream too.

We head to the dinghy and balance ourselves as my daughter rows us steadily out to the boat.

The engine roars, the anchor comes up and we head home. My son in law watches the navigational

devices and I watch my son in law. No one has taught him to belittle himself so he is patient and

believes in life and loves my daughter. I see them exchange a glance so private I blush and so I turn

my head to see the fog like an apartition  laughing at us while we become blind.

The GPS screen glows green and we can see the island ahead of us by 4.3 nautical miles and my

grand daughter takes on the job of the horn blower, the mighty protector of boat people. We slow,

the fog is thick now, I remember the kind of love so full and how it fills you with safety.

I who was always taught the ocean is not your friend, still I am relieved once we hit the dock, prow

first, and I watch until we are all on dry land, not floating but solidly on the earth.