Row A Boat
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. I’ll embark from the eastern shores of Canada and navigate, as best as I can, by the night stars toward the beaches of Portugal. I suppose that it will be a long and perilous journey. The Atlantic can be so stormy at the best of times. Still, some journeys must be undertaken, despite one’s fears. And rowing a boat across a stormy sea seems simpler than the alternative.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. I’ll need to take a few things with me — some food and some water, some sunscreen and shark repellent, maybe a book to read when I’m tired of rowing, a blanket in case the nights are cold, a telescope or a kaleidoscope or maybe both, a toothbrush and some soap, maybe a compass, maybe a wooden flute, maybe some paper and a pen to keep a journal of my adventures.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. My children think it’s odd that I have chosen to leave after living so many years this far inland. My son said just the other day, “The beaches of Portugal are stony and will hurt your feet.” He remembers being there with me once, but does not offer to join me now. My daughter has never been there, and thinks it odd that I would go alone, but she thinks most of what I say or do is odd. Perhaps, you think it’s silly too.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. I suppose that there is a chance that I may be swallowed by a whale, but I hope not. I hate detours, and a whirlwind ride to the bottom of the ocean really doesn’t fit into my itinerary. If, like Jonah in the Bible or Geppetto in the story of Pinocchio, I do end up in the belly of the world’s largest mammal, I sincerely hope that a breeze will cause a sneeze, and I get spit back to the surface with my dignity and most of my possessions more or less intact.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining about where I live today. I’m not real unhappy or feeling blue. I’m not running away from anyone or anything. It’s just that life sometimes asks for an adventure, and in my dreams, I can hear some soft serenade drifting over me from distant shores. I admit that I never get the meaning or the intent of dreams, but I think I’ll know more when I get to where I have to go.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. What’s that? Well, yes, I would be happy to get you a souvenir, but you see, I'm leaving for a reason, and I don’t think that I’ll be coming back.
© Copyright, Kennedy James. All rights reserved.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. I’ll embark from the eastern shores of Canada and navigate, as best as I can, by the night stars toward the beaches of Portugal. I suppose that it will be a long and perilous journey. The Atlantic can be so stormy at the best of times. Still, some journeys must be undertaken, despite one’s fears. And rowing a boat across a stormy sea seems simpler than the alternative.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. I’ll need to take a few things with me — some food and some water, some sunscreen and shark repellent, maybe a book to read when I’m tired of rowing, a blanket in case the nights are cold, a telescope or a kaleidoscope or maybe both, a toothbrush and some soap, maybe a compass, maybe a wooden flute, maybe some paper and a pen to keep a journal of my adventures.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. My children think it’s odd that I have chosen to leave after living so many years this far inland. My son said just the other day, “The beaches of Portugal are stony and will hurt your feet.” He remembers being there with me once, but does not offer to join me now. My daughter has never been there, and thinks it odd that I would go alone, but she thinks most of what I say or do is odd. Perhaps, you think it’s silly too.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. I suppose that there is a chance that I may be swallowed by a whale, but I hope not. I hate detours, and a whirlwind ride to the bottom of the ocean really doesn’t fit into my itinerary. If, like Jonah in the Bible or Geppetto in the story of Pinocchio, I do end up in the belly of the world’s largest mammal, I sincerely hope that a breeze will cause a sneeze, and I get spit back to the surface with my dignity and most of my possessions more or less intact.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining about where I live today. I’m not real unhappy or feeling blue. I’m not running away from anyone or anything. It’s just that life sometimes asks for an adventure, and in my dreams, I can hear some soft serenade drifting over me from distant shores. I admit that I never get the meaning or the intent of dreams, but I think I’ll know more when I get to where I have to go.
I think that I will row a boat across the sea. What’s that? Well, yes, I would be happy to get you a souvenir, but you see, I'm leaving for a reason, and I don’t think that I’ll be coming back.
© Copyright, Kennedy James. All rights reserved.
Whenever I've heard that song on the radio..I've vaguely wondered what the words were!! Thank you for clearing that up .. :)
ReplyDeleteI love your concept of an adventure in a boat..that idea conjures up images of the owl and the pussycat for me!
"images of the owl and the pussycat"
DeleteYes, that's a great connection ... ;o}
Interesting post, but I'm wondering if you intended it to be poetry or prose, given the repetition of the first line of each paragraph. I guess the message speaks to your free-spirited nature, except I was surprised to read the line about hating detours. I would think the narrator would embrace them.
ReplyDeleteI think of it as a poetic prose piece. As for detours, while adventures in their own right, they are soooo time consuming ... and one only has so much time ...
DeleteI've always enjoyed this song, and it's perfect for your "poetic prose piece." Now I'm feeling all dreamy and at peace ... thanks!
ReplyDeleteIt's a great song, but when I watched the video, I couldn't imagine anyone who does NOT look like a pop star more than Christopher Cross ...
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