The Setting Wind

It was a beautiful evening. A bit warm, but the wind made everything better. Not that much better needed to be made.

It had been a while since last I was on a boat. And this one was a bit bigger than dad's little row-boat he kept at our pond. Or the motor boat we used at the lake, but that's because it was just the row-boat with a motor attached.

No, this boat came with a second floor and a guy playing a guitar. And tables--dad's row-boat never had tables. But this one did. And a bar-tender, who ran out of margarita mix before we ever left port. Dad's boat never had margarita mix.

Being on a boat is nice. Being on large enough a boat that you can stand is better, especially if you're at the front with the wind in your face, skimming along near the shore, where you can look at the paths through the trees to people's houses on the outer islands whose only obstacle is a doorway with no walls. Well, a door and the ocean. Being on a boat, the wind in your face is nice. Looking at the fish jumping out of the water, allowing the birds flying above to have a nice meal before they decide to call it a day. Gazing at the clouds, relaxing without a worry or care.

Being in a boat is nice. But it's even better at sunset.

Although I ignored the setting sun, as we turned back to shore. I stayed at the front of the boat, feeling the wind on my face.