Drifting
It's cold in the hospital room—not just the frigid temperature but also the general atmosphere itself. Oh, they've tried to add warmth to it, the comfy furniture, the wood paneling, pastel-colored walls. However, it's still a hospital room and will never achieve the "family-friendly" ideal the designers envisioned. Two o'clock AM and Dad is having a stormy night. He is adrift on an angry ocean. I hope by early morning, he'll find his way home and set foot on a familiar shore, albeit a jagged one. I know that one night he will not return to us. He'll remain lost on that bitter sea. I'd like to believe he'll find his way to a farther shore and find my sister welcoming him. I want to think that all his family is there: his mother, father, sisters, brothers. His legions of friends would also be there, laughing and telling jokes in French. I know there is a fear in all sailors from my naval service, mostly unspoken—a fear of being swept overboard. T...