His son jumped down to get exactly what he meant among the many little items on the shelf, his pocket knife. “Pass me the thing over there,” he said and pointed. The boy sat quietly observing every movement of his father’s hands, every item placed in his pockets, and listened to every unconscious grunt. It seemed like only a little time ago he was still a young man. He looked in the mirror at a face surprisingly old, his skin dark and leathery. It felt cold to the touch and had a chemical smell that didn’t go away until after a good wash. He spread his sun-cream thickly over his brown skin. They said those things because it was the past that haunted them, not spirits. People didn’t go there because they said the place was full of ghosts. It was way out by the metal pole that stood like a giant spear in the water. He knew of a place where the best fish swam. He could stay out longer the earlier he left. He wanted to be out on the water before dawn so that the ocean air could cool him from the sun’s heat. Now that the boy was ready for school he had to admit that the boy was also old enough for the sea. It could get rough out there and the idea of losing his son to the water haunted his dreams. The child so badly wanted to go out with him. The boy sometimes woke up before him to help prepare the equipment for the boat and then to wave a sad little goodbye at the dock. They did this little ritual every morning before the sun rose and the day became hot. It would be expensive, so he had to work even harder to pay for the coming fees. He had been saving for a long time to send his boy to school and he finally had enough. Fishing not only fed the family, the catch needed to be extra to sell in the market. His son watched as he prepared for the day of fishing. Illustrations from CC-licensed photographs by Samuel Mann, betawolf311 and Bernt Rostad ‘Secrets of the Sea’, Jennifer Marie Brissett

Jennifer brissett