These are two shots from last Saturday. When I look at the photos of that day, I look at the one on the left of all the boats in a row and recall the many times I've viewed this scene leaving or returning to the slip with my father. I think about the many hours I've spent with him at one marina or another, on one of his boats or another, him tinkering around, me finding something to occupy myself with, trying to catch crabs on a string with bacon, running up and down the docks, sitting on the bow and watching the seagulls. Though we did fish together, much of our shared time on boats was not spent fishing because I tend to, um, how to say this politely... suffer the water's movement (something he of course thought was all in my head). I did spend quite a bit of time with him on his boats though and I'm happy for that, happy for the secret language he taught me: bow, stern, aft, starboard, port, galley, flying bridge, spring line, etc. Those words are in my vocabulary because his voice was in my ear. As to the photo of the anchor chain, it's highly symbolic of my feelings towards my father and no surprise really that this shot was the last shot I took that day.
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