|The Hibiscus has been named "Fred."|
Last night I was anchored out in a bay. As the day spoke I got into the rowboat to head to shore.
A gentleman nearby recognized me from last year’s haul-out in the boatyard. We exchanged greetings. He told me I was in a good spot for anchoring.
Then he asked me where my dog was.
When my dad died Uncle Len bought a Spruce tree. He called it, Peter.
He’d water it. Watch it grow. Change the soil, the pot. It lived nearby.
I don’t usually do soil on the boat. But today a Hibiscus called to me.
To call it Fred.
When I got home to the helm I sat it there. Like Fred often would when we were underway. Panting and whimpering. He didn’t much like motoring along on the boat.
Seconds later streams of light filtered through it. The sliver of a new moon lit the sky.
My heart sobbed and I thought for Fred, it’s a new beginning.
The Hibiscus is for me, a way to cope with my loss.
Coping with the loss of my dear, loving, wonderful – best dog ever and friend, Fred.