Faces in the clouds

There you are in the clouds, the image of perfection
God-given looks and the promise of protection
My heart entirely yours, section by section
So well-convinced of your eternal affection

You’re lost in the clouds due to fickle alteration
How could I envision us in this situation?
The slightest breeze can cause an explosive transformation
And what you thought you saw is lost sans explanation

I suppose that’s all you were – a likeness, a false depiction
Yet something so real it was nearly an addiction
Now I’m just a shadow, reeking of affliction
Impossible to forget, so I’ll convert us into fiction

Essay: Easing angst behind the wheel

The taste of the bitter winter atmosphere mixed with the sweet smell of the holidays overwhelms me. I open my driver side door and the stale air trapped by the windows that don’t open rushes out. A fern green 2000 Honda Civic named Lois has been waiting patiently, with the reflections of nearby trees skewed in her glossy chassis like the image of clouds in a crystal clear lake. While I sink into the soft gray interior, I grip the frigid steering wheel in preparation for a joy ride with my best friend, a bearded Labrador terrier named Denvour.

All anxiety evaporates from my muscles when I put the key in the ignition and place my foot on the clutch; the stresses of adolescent life seem to melt away with the prospect of a late afternoon jaunt. I turn on the indifferently dim lights and gingerly turn my head to back out of the driveway, while piles of shoes and clothes catch my eye in the too-small back seat

 Though I wish to smell only the vanilla air freshener that I had previously placed next to me, the light stench of dog invades my nostrils. Denvour glances over at me, waiting for the window to roll down. She is dreaming of warmer times when her head would protrude from the car, tongue out and ears blown straight back with the wind. Occasionally, her front paws would reach the window as she pushed life’s boundaries – as well as her upper body – to the maximum. However, a layer of translucent frost envelops the car, sending shivers down my spine.

            I scrutinize the straight road ahead with its two perfectly parallel yellow lines. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going but that is not the point; I don’t need to know. I will simply take each turn as it comes, right then left. Thoughts overwhelm me as my mind wanders, recalling specific moments and replaying them. Twenty of my favorite songs whirl through the seven-foot space and the muffled bass thumps to the beat of my heart when it races through excitement, hurt, anger. The car’s low groan matches mine as we slow to a stop at a traffic light and my skin is warmed by beams of sunlight breaking through the glass. My ears are awash with the soft breath of Denvour as she rests back into the seat in a moment of relaxation. I let my foot off the clutch too quickly and the car leaps forward like a prize-winning steed. “Oops”, I whisper under my breath as I chuckle at my own mistake and regain composure. The jumps caused my worn tires to spin and I almost fishtail into the other lane. Luckily, I’m able to reverse the impending spin and continue along Main Street unscathed.

            I'm compelled to stop at Dunkin Donuts for fresh, steaming coffee and a munchkin for the mutt. Warm Columbian flavor hits my tongue in small splashes, teasing my taste buds. The smell of java mixed with the dry heated air brings daydreams of Christmas morning. I tune in to the local 24-hour holiday radio station, crank up the volume, and sing ostentatiously.

            As the world around me is transforms into darkness and the hour approaches supper, I’m aware that it is time to return to reality. I reach my parking spot in the drive and turn down the music in preparation to tuck Lois in for the night. Denvour hops to the ground and prances to the back door while I wave goodbye and am given a disguised salutation, a delicate beep as the doors lock.

Opposite sides of the moon

I would consider the moon and think,
“How lonely you must be!
Perhaps nearly as lonely as me?”
Fate was false, hope was history.

One night I sat with you and glanced at the moon
While passion existed so naturally.
Love was supposedly dead,
Yet air filled its lungs once again

The moment I fell for you.

Every night I regard the moon
And the distance disappears.
After all, you may too be gazing
At my same moon.

Remember when we were alone,
Each assured that’s all we could know?
I believe we always have been
Merely watching opposite sides of the moon.

Essay: A dark descent

The sun had just set and our excitement was growing. We were finally going to check out the new powerboat. It was early April and Long Island Sound was still frigid. A creaky wooden dock extended from the stone parking lot to our new vessel of speed. We walked down the dock in a single file line with Captain Dad leading his crew to his ship. I was about five years old, the youngest of three girls. It was exhilarating, being on the dock without life jackets. We had one major boating rule during summers: we couldn’t step foot on the dock without a safety vest on. But this was a special visit to the docks and we were only stopping by, not even taking the boat off the dock.

The five of us climbed aboard. Dad started the boat and it came to life with a roar. The gasoline fumes smelled like summer and I imagined myself sunbathing on the stark white deck. But it was still cold enough to see our breath—those bright warm days were a long way off. We took our time exploring, walking from the pointed bow to the squared-off stern. It was just a small, used boat with a tiny cabin that could comfortably sleep one person. I didn’t know much about boats but Dad said it was better than the one we had before. And when you’re five, everything your dad says is fact.

There was a definite winter chill in the air so it soon was time to disembark. Mom and Kerry were almost back to the car but Lindsey had just begun walking up the dock when I went to step from the boat to the dock. I was talking and laughing with Dad yet I missed something he said over the sound of the engine. He was telling me to hold on, to wait until the dock was closer. I slipped right into the cold dark water and felt every inch of my skin sting. I didn’t really know how to swim but that wasn’t where the danger lay. The natural currents were pulling the boat back towards the dock and I was going to be crushed between. It was a feeling of acute panic that I had never experienced and I was crying for help. Kerry was screaming louder, terrified for her little sister. The sound was carried across the water in an echoey way that you can only experience on the shoreline. It seemed I would either be pinned against the dock or slip under the boat. My oldest sister Lindsey ran back down the dock with Mom close behind and reached into the water for me. She clutched the hood of my jacket and pulled me up to my dad’s arms. My mom carried me to the car and wrapped me in her long, brown coat. She held me tight as I shivered deeply.

Sometimes I look out at the black ocean on winter nights and think about that accidental plunge. Water so cold that it burns and fear so strong that it teaches you to be brave.

Come what may

Upside-down, all spilled out
I'm suddenly all alone
A part of me, the lost piece
Now damned to the unknown

I've never seen a storm roll in
As fierce as on that day.
The sky so black, the earth soon dead
Yet you whisper, "Come what may."

How does one leave easily
From a wreck so near and dear?
I can't look you in the face
You have become my biggest fear

Essay: I found true love at sea

I’ve never sailed around the world, or even down the East Coast, but I’ll never forget the first time I made it across the vast body of water we call Long Island Sound. Sure, we covered fewer than 40 miles the entire trip, but that didn’t matter to me. Up until that point, most of my sailing experiences took place rather close to home, within a few miles of the Connecticut shoreline where I grew up.

My dad has an incredible passion for sailing, and he gave me an amazing gift by passing that torch down. Within a year of him acquiring our 31-foot Hunter, I was hooked on the sport. It didn’t take long for me to grow fascinated with the way you can control your speed by trimming the sails and the complex rigging that made the magic happen. With several decades of experience under the belt around his life vest, he has a knack for making it look easy. I dreamed of being the sailor behind the helm, one hand on the jib sheet, as we cruised through the waters I’ll always call home.

Prior to this family weekend getaway, we had only motored across the Sound. Each summer when the designated days rolled around, it always seemed like the wind didn’t want to cooperate and help us across. But, on this particular journey, both sails were hoisted and the engine was off. Without the outboard’s rumble in the background, I suddenly felt something different as I looked out into the distance.

Although the shadow of Long Island is almost always visible, I imagined that watery roads were all I could see from the deck. Standing on the bow, I let the waves crash onto my feet as I squinted into the sun. Each time Impulse bobbed, nodding toward the horizon ahead, I fell deeper in love with the sea.

When the sun comes up

You and I, a sunrise:
The start of a brand new day.
A mesmerizing combination of color,
The sky lit up halfway.

You and I, a sunrise:
The prologue to a golden sun.
I feel the warmth in your eyes
And I know that you're the one.

As we play in our new day
I fall so deep in love.
We see the world in a whole new way,
Watching silently from above.

I flash you a quick smile
Then firmly grasp your hand.
I know we'll always rise together,
Illuminating sea and land.

You and I, a sunrise:
Glowing eternally.
No expectations of goodbyes,
No sunsets for you and me.