Tag: writer
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Eleven
“Let the child drive, so,” the locals told my mother. She had chartered a horse-drawn gypsy caravan for two weeks in Ireland, even though she was scared of Equus. “Yeah, Mom,” I chimed in. “Let me drive!” I was eleven. Horse-mad. But no, she gripped the reins and struggled through despite high anxiety. Brave woman.…
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May Day
When I climb aboard after scraping Habibi’s hull – see you, barnacles! – what to my wondering eyes does appear? A small squat military vessel a few hundred feet off my port bow. I sit at the rail to catch my breath, and notice that the ten fatigued and armed men on board are not…
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Stuffed
I had shoved too much into the day, and now I was paying. I couldn’t find Habibi in the dark. Audrey Kayak was loaded with water and provisions – I’d also shoved too much into her. Bright city lights prevent me from seeing the dimmer solar tiki torches I’d rigged fore and aft when the…
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Seeds
It is Semana Santa, the highly celebrated week before Easter. Many party boats are in a hurry to herd vacationers out on the bay. Smart whales departed before the festivities, though dolphins still make an appearance. I tow a small white buoy when I swim, and sometimes wear a red cap, depending on traffic. This…
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Fire?
“Fire!” lied the alarm, sending a jolt of adrenaline through me in the wee hours. I leaped out of bed, flung open a sky hatch, and pushed the hush button. “Smoke previously detected,” she explained. I smelled no smoke. I saw no fire. I felt no warmth in the walls or roof. Topside, the solar…
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Not Done
I was climbing the swim ladder on the port side after cleaning the hull. (Not completely, never completely – Jesus, Mary and Joseph — just another section, like painting the Golden Gate Bridge.) Off the starboard stern quarter, beyond the boom and solar panels and cockpit, a whale dives under the boat. Where I was…
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Get Away
“Get away from me,” I tell the self-righteous woman in front of me, but she doesn’t. She continues screeching about leashes and laws. It is an early winter morning circa 2005, and Emmett and I are ambling around the ‘hood. We usually have it to ourselves at this hour, but not today. I do understand…
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Full Moon at The Other Café
My first night working at The Other Café – coffeehouse by day, comedy club by night – Robin Williams was in the house. I was in the kitchen learning to salt the chili so customers would drink more, when he grabbed me and tango’d me around the crowded floor — crowded with cooks, comedians, waiters,…
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Stuck
A neighboring sailboat was having trouble hauling anchor. It seemed to be stuck on something on the ocean floor. Supposedly there are a few shipwrecks in this anchorage. The neighbors tried dropping more chain. No joy. They tried hard reverse. Nope. They tried hauling from a different direction, and, eventually, they got loose and motored…
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Birthdays
We celebrated birthdays hard when I was a kid. Breakfast in bed, presents, queen for the day, and favorite foods for dinner (crab, sourdough, artichoke). In México, I garner a slice of banana pudding bread and a card from Maria, the kind server at my favorite eatery. So far I like ageing. Less tolerant of…
essays by shé 