Originally posted Sept. 28th, 2022
Ships
All of our lives, we hear sayings. Some we understand. Other soar over our heads. Their meanings lost in the clouds. I have heard the phrase “two ships passing in the night” many times during my life. I’m sure I will hear it many more. This is the first time in my life I can honestly say that I’ve made this connection within my own mind.
I consider myself a cuddy cabin boat. There are all sorts of possibilities with me. About 6 months ago, I was moved to different waters. Greener pastures if you will. Bright blue waters, sunny skies. Wide open spaces. There are more boats here than the waters I left.
A bright cheery bowrider was teaching me these new waters. Once the ice broke by spring rolling in; we started wondering around the bay. Seeing what we could see.
On many occasions a sleek gray trawler would pass our way. It was obvious that the trawler had been out to sea. More nautical miles under his belt than me.
I gave him little thought. He was very friendly. Nice trawler. Bow (that’s what I call her) started putting this idea in my on board computer that Gray had a thing for me. “Nah, not me.” We would banter back and forth as we bobbed in the water, “it’s you.”
I would blush, “No it’s you.”
So, I started paying attention. Maybe Bow was right. Maybe Gray did. I never could work up enough steam to ask him to go deep sea fishing. Bow kept encouraging me but I just couldn’t.
Then one day this gorgeous runabout showed up. I knew her from my old waters. She thought Gray was a super catch. How could I compete with her aerodynamic design and well kept paint job? Her lines were sleek and she seemed to glide across the water.
I did what I thought was the right thing for me. Gray was hers. There was no way I could maneuver through the water like she could. The sun didn’t reflect from me like it did her. Glory go with her. Though on one occasion I did give Gray a fishing net. It was too big for me. Might as well give it to someone that can use it.
Now we are two ships that pass in the night. Things have changed. We speak on occasion.
Was it runabout that changed things? Was it the heat of summer? Was this God telling me Gray is not the trawler for me? I may never know.
Maybe Bow was right, I should have shuck off my barnacles and asked him to go fishing. Maybe Bow was wrong and it really was her?
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