Rowing Offshore in a Fog

I remember challenging my older brother

to a rowing contest to see who could

come back to the same spot after

rowing straight out a half mile into

a dense Maine fog with no compass

and only shoreline sounds as a guide.

He rowed out first from the pier at

Ocean Point and soon disappeared into

the white fog bank. My heart beat fast

praying for him to come back and come

back he did with a smile on his face.

Then came my turn and I rowed and

rowed until Ocean Point disappeared.

I heard water lapping the shores of

Negro Island and turned my boat around

to head exactly in the opposite way

for waves crashing on Ocean Point’s shore.

For a moment I felt utterly lost and

heard only a distant clang of a bell buoy.

Then I saw a sea gull flying very, very low–

so low that I could see his bright yellow eyes.

Tired and weary I could only trust my arms

to pull two white oars the right way home.

Then I saw the darkest bit of pier and then

my big brother standing there squinting to see.

“You sure had me worried,” he said to me.

All I could do was to grin and wipe away a tear.