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'Interesting, ' he thought. 'That's a hull down there.'Hold on a second.' Yes. 'It was moving slightly.'Rocking back and forth with the slight beach wave action ... wash and return.'How long has it been down?' he wondered.The bottom had the normal growth that all wood hulls had, but the sides that he could see were clean. There was a very slight trickle of bubbles coming up as the hull rocked.He thought, 'if that's only down about 30 feet, I could tie a cable to the bow cleat and use the diesel to pull it closer to shore.'Fetching a mask, he rummaged around in the forward anchor locker, found the spare rode and tied it off to a large stern crank capstan. He tossed the rode over the side. It actually landed on the hull.'Well, that'll make it easy to find.'"Hey cousin!" he hollered. "What is your name anyway?" Wendy," she replied.It figures."Wendy, there's a boat hull down there. I'm going to try and pull it closer to the beach."He hyperventilated while he was tying a couple of weights. Loosened, I was ready to practice my dance recital.I took a few minutes to relax, compose myself, and let the music stir my spirit. I wanted it deep in my soul; I needed to feel what I was dancing. I began to sway with the music and soon I was gliding across the floor, my arms and hands moving in the most delicate way, the cheesecloth gown flapping around my body.The music flowed powerfully over me and I crossed the floor in leaps and bounds. Harmonious and rapturous chords guided my movement as I became an instrument in its chorus. This was what I loved, being a part of the whole, gliding and floating, enjoying the freedom of expression.Then I felt a presence with me on the floor. It was during an extended arabesque that I first felt his touch. He came from behind, took my hands in his and led me into an unfamiliar routine. Was I dreaming or was someone really here? I started to turn but he shushed me, murmuring in my ear, "Don't turn around… just dance. Dance for me."It was him, my.
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