The one at the sail...

I know there were no guarantees. No way of knowing what came next for me, or him, or anything. Some things don't last forever, but some things do. Like a great song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down the corners and peering close, hoping you still see the person you see there. That was the thing ... you just never knew. Right now, though, I wanted not to think forward or backward, but only to lose myself in his words.

We went on for some time rehashing everything that had happened, and somehow we were both right. And like two people who have loved each other however imperfectly, who have tried to make a life together, however imperfectly, who have lived side by side and watched the wrinkles slowly form at the corner of the other's eyes, and watched a little drop of gray, as if poured from a jug, drop into the other's skin and spread itself evenly, listening to the other's coughs and sneezes and little collected mumblings, like two people who'd had one idea together, we spoke deep into the night, and the next day, and the next night. For forty days and forty nights, I want to say, but the fact of the matter is it only took three. You were off to experience the world, as he had once done, and all that was left, after everything was said and done, was to cheer your success, and cry as he got ready to wave you goodbye.