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I worked on a shrimp boat when I was 19, on a lark, seeking adventure. A day into our trip fifty miles off the coast of Florida, a raging storm set in. For three days, we fought for our lives. At one point, I came face to face with a wall of black water, death itself, towering above me.
Blubbering like a baby, I had to continue sweeping water off the deck, securing debris, working to survive. Mostly, I remember like it was yesterday the Captain gripping me by my shirt, “You gotta be tough, son, you gotta be tough.”
The sea terrifies me.
I’ve only been out to sea on a boat once since then, to spread my mother’s ashes. The engine on the boat caught fire. Just as we were saying a prayer for her and getting ready to release her to the ocean.
Black smoke billowed out as my brother and I leaned over and set her free.
The sea.
I hope they find that submarine.
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