I started out writing this lamo draft yesterday based on one of MamaKat’s writing prompts. I experienced great pleasure “selecting all” and hitting “delete.” I feel great affinity with Mamakat’s blog and title, Mama’s Losin’ It. For any of you that visit here regularly, I know this doesn’t need explanation.
The sound I chose was from my day sailing days when many summer Saturdays were spent sailing in a small bay near the mouth of the Chesapeake.
So yesterday I found myself writing about this sound at a distance, thinking I could ignore all emotion. Since when has that ever worked? After another night of weird weather dreams (no tornadoes, though), I had to start over:
The rhythmic clatter of the slap of halyard metal to sailing mast, like that made by a school yard flagpole in a steady breeze, stood out in the non-motorized sailing world. As a group, sailors don’t much care for unnatural noises. The clamorous kind caused by un-captured winds causes sleepless nights. If sails and flags could be raised without halyards, I’m sure they wouldn’t exist.
When I was young this noise didn’t bother me at all. As a day sailor, I actually loved it. The clatter meant we were among the sailboats on trailers preparing for launch. Even though we were only an hour’s drive from where we lived, this sound evoked the most recognizable sensation among many that we had entered my favorite world. Even when the wind was non-existent, as it often was early in the morning, in my memory the movement of boats from land to water fluctuated with the same volley of sounds of metal and hollow mast.
I liked my new world where my mind could get quiet and that was pretty in a way that is impossible for a painting to quite do justice; that smelled like something marvelous and briney, that couldn’t be bottled and if it ever were, would never be right.So why would I choose, to leave that little space?
So that’s where I stay for now – there on the boat ramp, getting ready to sail on the soft open waters, knowing that it will be left behind later that afternoon.
Looking back, I think I would have done anything to stay and fall asleep to the sound of haylards.