3-in-1
A 3-in-1. Hmm. The formatting went to hell with the copy and paste, but I don't like it enough to fix it. :P
Shiver Me Timbers
Well, I'm leavin' my family, leavin' all my friends.
My body's at home, but my heart's in the wind
where the clouds are like headlines upon a new front page sky.
My tears are salt water. The moon's full and high.
And I know Martin Eden is gonna be proud of me.
Many before me been called by the sea
to be up in the crows nest singin' by saying:
Shiver me timbers. Sailing away.
And the fog's lifting, the sand's shifting, I'm drifting on out.
Old Captain Ahab's got nothin' on me.
Swallow me, don't follow me. I travel alone.
The water's my daughter. I shall skip like a stone.
And the fog's lifting, the sand's shifting, I'm drifting on out.
Old Captain Ahab longs to hear me shout,
"Swallow me, don't follow me. I travel alone.
The water, she's my daughter. I'll skip like a stone."
Won't you please call my old man. Tell him not to cry.
My goodbyes are written by the moon in the sky.
Say, nobody knows me. Can't fathom my staying.
Shiver me timbers. I'm sailing away.”
The last chords of the song faded away with the hum of the engine, leaving Laura in silence. It had been Mama’s favorite song. Long days at the beach had been wasted away with track twelve on repeat, her mother running along the beach, hands in the air and voice raised in an off-tune rendition of Bette Midler’s croon.
Laura’d never liked the song. She could remember the look in her mother’s eye, and the wistful way she’d ask if Laura ever felt that way. She’d asked Laura if she’d ever wanted to just disappear; to drift on out. Laura had smiled then, and assured her mother in uncertain terms that she had. She’d cry into her pillow on those nights, and pray to a God she didn’t believe in that Mama was just pretending. She didn’t cry now.
“Ms. Richards?” The man’s voice broke her from the bittersweet memories, and Laura glanced up. The policeman was dressed in the short-sleeves of the Florida force, and his name-tag read Sheriff Kensington.
“Yes?”
“We think that we’ve found your mother’s boat. The Skipper, wasn’t it?” A glance at his notepad replaced any need for me to reply. “Yes, it was --…”
“And my mother?” I broke into his musings, startling the man into a practiced grimace. He’d done this before.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Richards, she --…”
The rest of his words were lost to the crunch of gravel beneath my sneakers. I could see the skiff near the water, as polished and perfect as ever. Perfect, but empty. I could hear the men shouting behind me as I pushed into the taped-off area to look down into the small boat’s innards.
The contents were familiar. An empty box of Godiva chocolates, my mother’s favorite, were settled beside the emptied wine bottle. It was a cheap brand, but its price in my household had been monumental. It had been the unopened bottle from her and my father’s anniversary. It was empty now, and stuffed with a rolled sheet of her lilac scrap-booking paper.
Without a thought of fingerprints or crime scenes, I scooped up the old Ripple bottle and slid the delicate paper into the light.
Baby Girl,
I know you’ll understand what I’m doing, because you’ve always understood me. Even when Daddy laughed, you knew what I felt inside. You remember that song, don’t you? Of course you do.
I’m going to go now, Baby. I’m going to drift away.
Mama
Laura read the note through numbed senses. The shortness, and the lack of apology, were as characteristic of her mother as the elegant cursive. The worst had happened - she hadn’t been pretending this time. Laura felt nothing.
The lilac paper fluttered to the sand, and Laura’s gaze trailed toward the perfect layout within the boat. The chocolates and wine had been settled in the crook of shirt sleeves, and her mother’s favorite khaki capris were rumpled with her familiar lounge. Even her tennis shoes remained, socks left limp in their hold, and the creases and dips of her underclothing cementing the detail, left empty and cool under the water-stained outfit. Unbidden, the once-treasured song whispered from a throat tight with tears.
“My body remains, but my heart’s on the wind.”
Shiver Me Timbers
Well, I'm leavin' my family, leavin' all my friends.
My body's at home, but my heart's in the wind
where the clouds are like headlines upon a new front page sky.
My tears are salt water. The moon's full and high.
And I know Martin Eden is gonna be proud of me.
Many before me been called by the sea
to be up in the crows nest singin' by saying:
Shiver me timbers. Sailing away.
And the fog's lifting, the sand's shifting, I'm drifting on out.
Old Captain Ahab's got nothin' on me.
Swallow me, don't follow me. I travel alone.
The water's my daughter. I shall skip like a stone.
And the fog's lifting, the sand's shifting, I'm drifting on out.
Old Captain Ahab longs to hear me shout,
"Swallow me, don't follow me. I travel alone.
The water, she's my daughter. I'll skip like a stone."
Won't you please call my old man. Tell him not to cry.
My goodbyes are written by the moon in the sky.
Say, nobody knows me. Can't fathom my staying.
Shiver me timbers. I'm sailing away.”
The last chords of the song faded away with the hum of the engine, leaving Laura in silence. It had been Mama’s favorite song. Long days at the beach had been wasted away with track twelve on repeat, her mother running along the beach, hands in the air and voice raised in an off-tune rendition of Bette Midler’s croon.
Laura’d never liked the song. She could remember the look in her mother’s eye, and the wistful way she’d ask if Laura ever felt that way. She’d asked Laura if she’d ever wanted to just disappear; to drift on out. Laura had smiled then, and assured her mother in uncertain terms that she had. She’d cry into her pillow on those nights, and pray to a God she didn’t believe in that Mama was just pretending. She didn’t cry now.
“Ms. Richards?” The man’s voice broke her from the bittersweet memories, and Laura glanced up. The policeman was dressed in the short-sleeves of the Florida force, and his name-tag read Sheriff Kensington.
“Yes?”
“We think that we’ve found your mother’s boat. The Skipper, wasn’t it?” A glance at his notepad replaced any need for me to reply. “Yes, it was --…”
“And my mother?” I broke into his musings, startling the man into a practiced grimace. He’d done this before.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Richards, she --…”
The rest of his words were lost to the crunch of gravel beneath my sneakers. I could see the skiff near the water, as polished and perfect as ever. Perfect, but empty. I could hear the men shouting behind me as I pushed into the taped-off area to look down into the small boat’s innards.
The contents were familiar. An empty box of Godiva chocolates, my mother’s favorite, were settled beside the emptied wine bottle. It was a cheap brand, but its price in my household had been monumental. It had been the unopened bottle from her and my father’s anniversary. It was empty now, and stuffed with a rolled sheet of her lilac scrap-booking paper.
Without a thought of fingerprints or crime scenes, I scooped up the old Ripple bottle and slid the delicate paper into the light.
Baby Girl,
I know you’ll understand what I’m doing, because you’ve always understood me. Even when Daddy laughed, you knew what I felt inside. You remember that song, don’t you? Of course you do.
I’m going to go now, Baby. I’m going to drift away.
Mama
Laura read the note through numbed senses. The shortness, and the lack of apology, were as characteristic of her mother as the elegant cursive. The worst had happened - she hadn’t been pretending this time. Laura felt nothing.
The lilac paper fluttered to the sand, and Laura’s gaze trailed toward the perfect layout within the boat. The chocolates and wine had been settled in the crook of shirt sleeves, and her mother’s favorite khaki capris were rumpled with her familiar lounge. Even her tennis shoes remained, socks left limp in their hold, and the creases and dips of her underclothing cementing the detail, left empty and cool under the water-stained outfit. Unbidden, the once-treasured song whispered from a throat tight with tears.
“My body remains, but my heart’s on the wind.”