Port Aransas, Texas. We were enjoying the warm water, the surf and the gentle breeze of the first day of our vacation at the Gulf of Mexico. I walked out into the waves remembering the time before when I had done the same thing with no real challenge. But I was older now and not so skilled in the art of walking as I had once been. The waters knocked my feet from beneath me and rolled me around entirely as if I had no will in the matter.
I finally got in the shallow water and thought I could stand but I found it was difficult even there to rise. I shouldn't have been surprised as I have trouble standing while on dry ground. My knees are worn and often cause me to review my vast knowledge of theology wondering why God did not make skyhooks while he was inventing everything else. They certainly would have been helpful, as much so as hook worms.
I did finally stand and made my way back to our room where I sat and composed a poem about the event. It was my own "Old Man and the Sea." An old man waded into the waves defiantly. He cursed their threat of harm. He called them "Baby Waves," all the time ignoring their "white and hoary heads." They knocked him down and rolled him with ease. But he finally got to his feet and stood there yelling at the "Baby Waves," cursing them and telling them they were "sad and shameful scions of Poseidon."
He raised his fist in the air defiantly as he cursed them, cursing them for all to hear as having been conquered by a better man than any they had ever encountered before. And then in a still, small voice, one none could hear but the waves themselves, he thanked them for showing kindness to an old man, for merely rolling him around playfully rather than making sport of him in a more serious manner.
It was a wonderful poem. Composed on my iPhone, it took some time for it to be completed. And then I lost it. It went somewhere and I could never find it again. I sat with paper and pen and tried to reconstruct it. But I was unable to find the challenge, the passion and the curiosity which had all been there in the original composition. Some of the words came back to me, but nothing read as well as the first draft. And it was gone.
I was sorry it was no longer there to be shared.
