Captain's log, entry #12, "The Sum"
The greenery is slowly slinking back, not all that much, but the fruit is all gone and some of the perennials are browning. We wait for chill in the air, yellowing of leaves and the smell of smoke to take us back to memories of autumns past.
Preparing the boat for the long voyage south for winter. Up a short river, through locks, then across a huge lake, a river, then another lake... The nights are downright cold at first. The trip is slow, so there's not a lot of temperature change except for the normal warm and cold fronts. There's enough money for diesel and rations, a few repairs, probably, and if not, I'll work in a diner or machine shop or something along the way.
On one of these stops, I am enamored with port city charm, and realize that this is my life. I'm not going to back to having an address, just literally going to drift through the rest of my days. No real bills, just fuel and food and repairs.
Along the way the brain conjures up many a hair-brained idea, such as fishing for food. It works okay sometimes, but the smell of fish is pretty bad, it gets everywhere. Somewhere along the way I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror in a pub and realize I am a lost seafaring soul now. Unshaven, dirty, and while I can't tell anymore, I'm sure I smell awful.
A dog follows me to the boat one night and decides to stay. Another mouth to feed, I hope he likes fish. The sunrises are my favorite, though I don't know why. The orange glow rises and chases away the fog, then melts it completely into the water. Every day has promise, but it's not needed now. It's just a leftover emotional response from the old life. Sunrises aren't mean to be triggers, just to be enjoyed.
There's nothing to do with these ideas except write them down somewhere. Maybe someone will find them of use. Business plans written by a fogged out old mind. Another holdover item I can't seem to shake.
