Harmony

Today I want to write about ships. Every day I watch them coming and going. At first they are hardly recognizable. Glimmers of white on the horizon. And then the small guide boats go out to guide them into dock. Most of them are cargo ships; stacked high with boxes of who-knows-what. And they all have names. I have a notebook page filled with those names. The Defender, Hansa Catalina, Caterina, Lauritzen Bulkers, Bianca, Greta, Harmony. Perhaps there is a kind of novelty in the fact that each name speaks of something different than just a cargo ship in Africa. Their names speak of high adventure and romance. Some sound like great warriors returning victorious, or fair ladies from far off lands. Some have stories, like the Blue Atlantic. It came in with a ship load of cocaine. They are currently holding it in port waiting for the owner to claim it. And people ask what they did with it all. Sarah decided that the government had a huge party.
Harmony is so far my favorite name. It's so peaceful sounding. She carries her brazen sailors safely through the storms and winds. And they love her. They love the wooden rails, whose luster has worn to a dull grey under their rough hands. They love climbing high into her mast to squint out at sea, hoping for a sight of land. She was once beautiful. On her maiden voyage, in all her glory. But now she is worn from salt and storms and sun.

OK, in reality, most of the ships are metal and don't have wooden rails, or masts, but their names still speak of their ancestors. And long forgotten adventures.