I wrote the post below almost 3 years ago. Much has changed since then. I am running out of chocolates...

How do I write out the depths of my soul echoing in that scene? in the sun sparkling off crinkled flecks of water? the mixture of cool breeze and hot rays like unstirred coffee and cream? the hum and whistle of wind cut by fishing lines and rigging? the baking of bare, calloused feet? the dance of light waves rippling on ship bows and the soothing lap of waves against hulls? the creak of swaying masts? the sea-colored sky with white-capped clouds?  The haunting cry of one gull becomes a chorus of cries, over 20 years suddenly synchronized into one devastating moment. = My childhood.  I read myself in these scenes. my father. my grandfather.  Every story I read, heard, dreamed of when life was indulged in beauty and I never measured it.  Beauty.  Life.  I've been handed armfuls of beauty; my storehouse bursts with it.  I will need those reserves.  In darkness and despair I will need to pull out these remembrances of beauty like a bit of chocolate from my pocket, unravel the wrapper and slowly suck on one little piece at a time.