Mooring

[This is for Brian. Whose spirit is out there somewhere in the universe, probably making a really bad pun about ‘how I can’t see him no moor’]

Indulge me…
My heart is small boat. It floats inside my chest. Moored by the love of everyone I’ve ever had the chance to love or be loved by. Held in place by the kindnesses of anyone who’s ever been kind to me. Some of the ropes are thicker, stronger, longer lasting than others.

My mind is a small boat that floats inside my head. Moored by the memories of everything I’ve ever said or done. Everything I’ve heard anyone say, or seen anyone do. Everything I’ve ever learned, or think that I’ve forgotten. Some ropes are thicker, stronger, longer lasting than others.

My body is a small boat that floats through this life. Moored by the people I know, and the people I love. Some hold me in a time or in a place. Some pull me towards the past or toward the future. but they all keep me resting close to shore, while giving me some room to sway. Fixed, but not frozen. Anchored, but not still.

Indulge me.
You were a mooring. A thick rope, attached to a heavy anchor. You held my heart, my head, and body loosely enough so I could drift, but firmly enough so I would never forget, where I came from, where the bottom was, where I belonged.

And now, the knot has come undone, along with part of me, undone. Drifting, you’ve left me, vulnerable to the storm surge which threatens to unloose me, and pull me out to sea, or even worse, to dash me against the unrelenting rocks.

The part of me that is undone must now rely on other ropes. The love, the kindnesses, the memories, the people and the places. Some thicker, stronger, longer lasting than the others. But none forever, and none the same as you.

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